


hypnotic

by doitsushine92



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Age Switch, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Alternate universe - Mafia, Angst, Blood Kink, Canon, Choking, D/s undertones, Dom/sub Undertones, Double Anal Penetration, Drabbles, Elevator Sex, Fae Donghyuck, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Grinding, Half-Mage Renjun, Hyung Kink, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mark is so Whipped, Mentions of Blood, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Polyamory, Semi Public Sex, Size Kink, Slight Pain Kink, Slight Voyeurism, Ten as Hades and sicheng as persephone, Threesome - M/M/M, Toys, Urban Fantasy, Vampire Jeno, Werewolf Jaemin, age gap, alpha mark with omegas nomin, handjobs, i mean doyoung is 27 and taeyong is 22, jaemin is kind of a needy baby in ch 10, mark is whipped but denies it, markhyuck are literal partners in crime, mild exhibitionism kink, minor character death in ch5, professor doyoung and student taeyong, professor/student, slight D/s, sniper mark, they dont have sex not really but uh yeag, undercover agent donghyuck(?), vampire hyuck and human jeno
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 16:08:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 29,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17963768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doitsushine92/pseuds/doitsushine92
Summary: a collection of short drabbles for me to practice my smut writing skills! i take requests so feel free to drop some!ch14:The smaller part, perhaps not so important but loud enough to make itself known, is eyeing Johnny like a meal served on a silver platter. Every time Johnny laughs, he feels it in his own chest; every time Johnny’s fingers linger on him, Jungwoo thinks he’s on fire.Jungwoo knows they both know where the night is going. He’s still surprised when Johnny kisses him as if his life depends on it.





	1. give you what you like

Mark is always careful with Donghyuck. Donghyuck wishes he wasn’t. Being careful means Mark cares about him and that’s not something they can afford with their arrangement. Not when all this is about convenience and certainly not with their careers on the line.

But Mark doesn’t seem to have gotten the memo. He kisses Donghyuck too slowly, cups his face too tenderly, sucks too many bruises into his sternum and chest because that’s the only place he can do it without getting chewed out by their stylists. Mark has stars in his eyes whenever it’s just him and Donghyuck, and most of the time Donghyuck has to pretend they’re not there, pretend he can’t see the blush sitting on Mark’s cheeks because if he so much as acknowledges that there’s something here, something other than loneliness and busy schedules and a tight leash around their necks, it’ll be his doom.

Donghyuck is aware of the things their fans think. None of them are subtle, so he knows what they say, all the things they think they are knowledgeable about, so many of them meant to be private. But Donghyuck doesn’t care, because he knows the things they don’t: he knows how Mark will hold his hand when they’re walking down the deserted halls of the company; how he asks Donghyuck for his opinion first, before Taeyong or Johnny because he values it more. He also knows the way Mark looks when he’s on the edge, his face flushed and his eyebrows scrunched up, the tiny gasps he tries to hold back but can’t.

Donghyuck knows what Mark likes. He knows that Mark has a sensitive neck, that his thighs quiver when he is feeling overwhelmed, that he likes to pull on Donghyuck’s hair and how his toes curl when he cums. Mark likes it when Donghyuck uses both of his hands when he’s jerking him off, the way Donghyuck sighs into his mouth when he fucks him and the way Donghyuck looks sitting on top of him.

Sometimes Mark will come back to the dorms at ridiculous hours of the night, far later than any of them, and even if Donghyuck is already asleep in his and Jaehyun’s room, Mark will always seek him out, barely showering and slipping into whatever pair of clean pants he finds nearby – typically Jungwoo’s, cause he knows Mark’s routine by now – before he invades his bed, curling around Donghyuck like he belongs there. The other members teased him about it the first few times, but they don’t even bat an eye anymore.

They think all Mark does is sleep. And sure, that’s mostly what he does, but it’s not _all_ he does. Jaehyun sleeps like the dead, which explains how he doesn’t wake up even when Mark is chasing a quick orgasm with nothing but Donghyuck’s hand on his dick and his lips on his neck. Donghyuck keeps a box of tissues on his bedside table precisely for times like these, so he doesn’t have to leave the comfort of his bed and of Mark’s warm body as he slips into dreamland.

That’s how it all started, to think about it. Mark has always been one of the most hardworking people Donghyuck has ever met and he didn’t seem to stop for anything, not even for himself or his own health. When they were preparing Regular, after one of their endless dance practices that left everyone like the walking dead, Mark and Donghyuck just sort of… fell into bed together. To this day, Donghyuck can’t remember who initiated it or who came onto whom, all he remembers is Mark Mark Mark, the way he pressed scorching hot kisses on his neck and how he moaned his name over and over.

Either way, they’re here now, and Donghyuck has to squeeze his eyes shut to keep from crying. He’s feeling so much, every time Mark curls his fingers inside him and punctuates it with a bite to his chest, every time Mark brushes Donghyuck’s sweaty bangs from his forehead and kisses him to swallow his sounds because Donghyuck can get loud if he’s not careful.

It’s even worse tonight, because Mark seems to be in the mood for sweet and slow instead of rough and needy. Donghyuck would much rather have Mark fuck him from behind because he wouldn’t have to look at Mark as he slides into him and that blissed out look on his face, the content little smile as he rocks into him, their lips wouldn’t brush together with every thrust and Mark wouldn’t be able to press their foreheads together.

That is why, when those few tears finally escape him, Donghyuck pretends they’re from pleasure and not because his heart is breaking into two, split between chasing something else with Mark that he knows he could have and doing the smart, sensible thing that is to break things up between them. But Mark knows, because Mark knows him, and he gives Donghyuck a sad smile and another kiss before he fucks him with abandon, because he picks up on the too-delicate atmosphere that’s hanging around them and the danger in it.

It is better like this, Donghyuck tells himself. And tomorrow, he’ll tell Mark they need to stop this, tell him he came to his senses and realized there’s too much on the line, that they’re better off as friends and nothing more. But for now, Donghyuck relishes in the sensation of Mark hovering over him, the little kisses littered over his face and how it feels to have Mark cum inside him, even with the condom between them. It helps Donghyuck pretend they have something, the intimacy of it all.

Donghyuck falls asleep practically within minutes of his own orgasm, after letting Mark help him into his pajamas and wipe him down, and the last thing he is aware of before succumbing is Mark settling down next to him, an arm hesitantly thrown over his waist before snuggling closer. Donghyuck cries a little again.


	2. clair de lune

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> vampire jeno meets half-mage renjun, then werewolf jaemin, and finally fae donghyuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this isn't as much porn as it is more plot.... it's more descriptive than the last one, though. this was inspired by a series of asks i got on my cc!! it is also a little vague on the relationships but i think i did good with the open ending

As a general rule, Jeno doesn’t feed from creatures that aren’t humans. He’s usually very good at sticking to his rules, going out of his way to avoid getting tangled with other supernatural beings, especially when it’s nearing his feeding time, which makes him question how the fuck he got involved with these three in the first place.

Jeno remembers how he met Renjun. In his defence, he had no way of knowing he was a mage until he had his fangs buried in Renjun, but maybe Jeno should have been more careful. Although, really, Jeno wasn’t expecting someone of his kind to be at a vampire club. Mages don’t often like to be around vampires – for good reason – and Jeno thought he was joking when he introduced himself as, “Renjun, half-mage.”

Jeno should have taken him more seriously. But the guy was cute; he had an impish smile and his eyes seemed to be twinkling under the strobe lights and Jeno has always been too trusting. He always falls too fast.

It is all a blur after that. Jeno thinks they danced for a long time, but he can’t be sure. The next thing he knows, he was back in his apartment, Renjun was sitting on his dick and Jeno was biting down on his neck. The second he tasted his blood, however, Jeno knew he was screwed in a whole different way.

Human blood is the blandest type of blood. It doesn’t really taste like anything, mostly just iron, but it does the job of feeding vampires. Mage blood, however, is sweet like honey and addictive, coursing thought Jeno’s veins and setting every nerve on fire. He’ll never forget that first drop landing on his tongue, the immediate frenzy he was thrown into, how he could barely pull away before draining Renjun because he was so hooked on the taste. Renjun didn’t seem to mind, though, with the way his mouth was hanging open and a litany of moans was streaming out, his fingers scrambling to keep Jeno right where he was. Jeno fucked him for hours after that, licking over the wound over and over to keep tasting him even after it closed.

Renjun could barely move the next morning, however, his skin pale and sickly. Jeno felt so bad, he would have cried if he’d been capable of it. Instead, he nursed him back to health, carefully feeding him whatever he could find at the grocery store down the street and handing him water bottle after water bottle.

Jeno can’t say they have a relationship. Mostly, Jeno seeks him out when he’s hungry or Renjun does when he’s feeling itchy – or needy, as Jeno would say. Whatever they have, it’s fun, it’s easy and it’s comfortable. Jeno no longer has to bust his ass looking for someone to drink from and Renjun doesn’t have to keep putting himself in danger when he wants a hook up. But they also hang out every once in a while, they make out even if there’s no reason to and Renjun pets Jeno’s hair when they cuddle. It’s nice.

Meeting Jaemin was different. Jeno was still immediately attracted to him, because his dick is predictable, but unlike with Renjun, Jaemin had zero interest in Jeno. It took a single whiff for Jeno to know Jaemin is a werewolf and that was enough explanation. Jeno was a little disappointed, sure, but he wasn’t going to be upset because a werewolf doesn’t want to sleep with a vampire.

But then, the werewolf had to go and hook up with Jeno’s mage. Jeno was pissed when he found out – through _Renjun_ , whom innocently told him about it ten minutes after Jeno was done feeding, during that sleepy haze he usually falls into – and he was petty enough to withdraw sex for two weeks. That is, until Jaemin busted into his apartment and told him to man up, “Renjun is sad you’re not talking to him.”

Once again, Jeno has no idea how it happens, but he ends up with his mouth full of Jaemin’s cock and then, later that night, with his blood dripping from his lips, Jaemin looking all pretty splayed out on his bed, his hair spread around him like a halo on the pillow. The best part? The effects of werewolf blood lasted weeks, and Jeno never felt more alive. The perks of drinking from their furry friends are the enhanced senses, so Jeno was able to hear a fly buzzing in the park across the street from his apartment if he paid enough attention.

Renjun was pleased to hear they were playing nice, and he certainly demonstrated it. Jeno has no idea how he convinced Jaemin, but he isn’t about to complain, not when Renjun is on his hands and knees on Jeno’s bed, his face pressed into Jeno’s thigh, too overwhelmed to keep going as Jaemin fucks him from behind and leaves finger-shaped bruises on his hips. Jeno doesn’t even care his dick has been left unattended, content with running his hands through Renjun’s hair as the mage falls apart in front of him.

But Renjun has other ideas. Jeno watches him raise himself on his elbows and lean forward, taking him back into his mouth and then looking up at him with hard, challenging eyes. Jeno knows Renjun likes getting a rise out of him, how much he likes to be in control, and having him at his mercy, so willing – it sparks something in him.

Together, Jeno and Jaemin filled Renjun from both ends, the mage moaning around Jeno and falling at a particularly harsh thrust from Jaemin, his nose pressed to Jeno’s skin and he just stays there, lets Jeno fuck his mouth instead.

A year later, they meet Donghyuck. Jeno knows at first glance that this boy means trouble, and more importantly, that he isn’t human – his smile is too sharp, his eyes too knowing. But he was also beautiful and captivating, and he had the three of them wrapped around his fingers within minutes.

On the trip back to Renjun’s apartment, Donghyuck sidles up to Jeno and asks, “How long have you been a vampire for?” and Jeno wasn’t going to reply truthfully, because he doesn’t know Donghyuck and he doesn’t usually talk about his past – he’s shot down any attempts made by Renjun or Jaemin – but Donghyuck was looking up at him, his head perched on Jeno’s shoulder as they walked down the street, and Jeno found himself blurting out, “Three hundred years, give or take.”

Donghyuck hums and he doesn’t ask anything else. Well, not for the next two hours. They make it to Renjun’s apartment, where the inevitable happens: there’s drinking, there’s kissing, there’s giggling and there’s fucking. Jeno is pleased to find out that Donghyuck is incredibly responding to anything done to him, and Renjun makes sure to take advantage of that.

While Jaemin is gone to the kitchen and Renjun is bitching from the laundry room about his sheets, Donghyuck takes up residence on Jeno’s lap, kisses the living hell out of him and asks, “Ever drank from a Fae before, Jeno?”

Jeno kind of wants to shout that he knew it, but that would ruin the mood. No, he just shakes his head and feels himself harden again when Donghyuck smiles and tilts his head back, a silent invitation. Jeno thinks about the pros and cons of doing this, remembers all the warnings he’s heard about feeding from Fae, then promptly decides fuck it.

Fae blood is extremely addictive and, even more importantly, it can make a vampire unable to be sustained by any other kind of blood. Jeno doesn’t know why he does it, but he doesn’t regret it. Donghyuck lets him drink as much as he wants, grinding down on his lap, eventually guiding Jeno’s cock back into his hole and riding him while Jeno sucks his blood. Later, Donghyuck promises to be his new source of blood if he keeps fucking him like that and Jeno thinks that’s a pretty sweet deal. Renjun and Jaemin sulk in secret for a few minutes, but they know there’s a silent invitation for them as well, especially with the way Jeno reacts at the simplest touch from them and his constant reminders of how good they taste.


	3. choking games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first squeeze is tentative, small, nothing more than a press of his thumb, index and middle fingers to the sides of Yukhei’s neck. Still, Yukhei’s nose feels a little tingly, as does the rest of his lower head. As Renjun gains confidence that Yukhei likes this, that he wants this, his grip tightens, until Yukhei’s head lolls to the side and he’s moaning out a garbled version of Renjun’s name. He never cuts off the airflow – or, at least, not entirely –, his hold just enough to have Yukhei a bit dizzy and a lot turned on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i took the chapter title from a song of the same name!! all chapter titles will probably be either song names or lyrics tbh

Renjun likes to grab people by the neck when they annoy him. He does it to all his friends, usually with a barely supressed smile on his lips and his eyes twinkling with mischief. Donghyuck, the nth time he did it, called him a kinky bastard; his voice had been laced with mirth, clearly a joke, but Renjun still blushed to the tip of his ears and pretended he didn’t hear.

Yukhei witnessed the exchange, albeit he’d been sitting quietly with his Calculus III homework on his lap and a straw perpetually attached to his lips so he could sip at his juice and scribble down numbers at the same time. Donghyuck smiled like Christmas came early and he didn’t stop pestering Renjun about his alleged ‘kink’ for weeks, until one day he was surprisingly quiet about the whole deal. Yukhei didn’t think much of it at the time, but now that he does, there were some suspicious red marks on Donghyuck’s neck that lasted for days.

Yukhei can only guess why.

“Eyes on me, babe,” Renjun snaps his fingers in front of Yukhei’s face, bringing him back to Earth. Yukhei blinks up at him from where he’s splayed on the bed, his gaze far away from here. He hasn’t been able to string a sentence together for the past hour, Renjun checking in on him regularly every few minutes. “You okay?”

Yukhei thinks he nods. Everything is hazy and his body is all tingly, and he feels better than he has all month. Renjun was right when he said he’d help him relax. Yukhei just wasn’t expecting it would be like this, if he’s being honest.

“I need your words,” Renjun reminds him gently. His hands are still on Yukhei’s thighs, rubbing circles into his skin, the sensation grounding. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Yukhei whispers. His voice comes out terribly croaky and disused, but Renjun must be satisfied because he smiles a little and pats Yukhei’s cheek a few times, brushes a few stray strands of hair from his face before he retreats. Yukhei feels more than sees Renjun check on the rope bounding his hands, making sure it isn’t cutting off blood, asking for Yukhei’s assessment and moving on.

“Xuxi,” Renjun says, and Yukhei has no idea why he reacts the way he does, but he feels a shiver run down his spine at the same time his cock spurts a little precum and Yukhei kind of wants to die – all that, just because of a stupid nickname? Or maybe it was the way Renjun said, the teasing tilt, the lopsided smile he wears. “I’m going to prep you now, alright?”

Yukhei nods, says yes. Renjun gives him another smile and then he’s climbing off him, quickly going to the drawer opposite his bed to pick up the bottle of lube and then returning, running a hand down Yukhei’s thigh again in reassurance. It’s those little things that make Yukhei feel even better, the constant petting and silent reminders of who he’s with.

Renjun hovers over Yukhei for a second, rearranging his own limbs and spreading Yukhei’s legs before he settles on his haunches. Yukhei’s hands, tied together in front of his tummy, get moved further up so they rest on his chest and Renjun says, “Keep them there,” with a pointed look to him and Yukhei widens his eyes, nodding to show he understands. The pretty smile that quirks Renjun’s mouth makes Yukhei feel a little less silly about his eagerness.

The first touch of Renjun’s lubed fingers against his skin makes Yukhei hiss and recoil – as much as he can, anyway. Renjun is quick to apologize, a sheepish smile as he takes his hand back and rubs the fingers together to warm them up before he tries again. This time, Yukhei stays put, a sigh escaping his lips when Renjun slides the tip of his index finger inside, so terribly careful as he slips the rest of the finger in. He waits almost an entire minute to start moving; until he’s one hundred percent sure Yukhei is okay.

Yukhei tells himself to relax, to loosen up, but he’s too tense. Renjun keeps his clean hand on his waist, though, caressing his hipbone and somehow that does the trick to get Yukhei out of his mind. Renjun works his finger in and out slowly, testing the waters, increasingly getting faster as he stretches him. The second finger surprises Yukhei and one of his legs kicks out as a reflex, accidentally hitting Renjun’s ankle. Yukhei expects Renjun to reprimand him – the silent order to stay still having been disobeyed – but instead Renjun coos and asks him if he’s sensitive. Yukhei will deny the whimper that left him at that second.

Renjun has an infuriating smile on his face after that. He isn’t as careful anymore, scissoring his hole with a little less finesse than before, but he still keeps an eye on Yukhei, just in case. Yukhei is pretty sure that Renjun is having the time of his life as he watches Yukhei struggle to keep his composure. Renjun’s still dressed, much to Yukhei’s displeasure, his jeans too tight at the front for comfort and his dress shirt unbuttoned, his hair dishevelled and messy thanks to Yukhei – he’s beautiful.

“I’m going to fuck you now, Xuxi,” Renjun says, so nonchalant. He says it as if he were talking about the weather or about giving Yukhei his sweater back. It’s so hot. Renjun pulls his fingers out, his breath stopping momentarily when Yukhei’s rim flutters around the emptiness and it’s the first time all night Yukhei sees him lose control, even if just for a short second before he goes back to being his unaffected self.

There’s a condom discarded at the bedside table. Renjun grabs it, tears the packaging with his teeth – again, that’s _so_ hot, Yukhei thinks – and then dumps it next to him on the bed. Yukhei thinks he’s going to take his clothes off, as would be the expected move, but no. Renjun only unbuckles his belt, unzips and unbutton his jeans and pulls out his cock, dragging his boxers down as far as necessary, then rolls the condom on.

When it registers in Yukhei’s mind that Renjun is going to stay dressed for this, while he’s completely naked, his hands bound and completely at his mercy… he short-circuits, basically. The neediest moan tumbles out of his mouth when Renjun grabs one of his legs and throws it over a shoulder, opening Yukhei up for him. It takes every ounce of self-restraint Yukhei has not to beg Renjun for a kiss right now.

Renjun fills him up in one thrust. Yukhei keens and arches his back, not expecting the sudden intrusion, and even Renjun needs a second to catch his breath, his eyes unfocused as he stares down at him. Yukhei thinks he looks completely amazing like that, with his fringe in front of his eyes and the flush on his cheeks, pupils blown wide.

As they’re getting into it, with Yukhei losing his inhibitions and growing louder, his mind floating somewhere else, Renjun runs a hand up Yukhei’s chest slowly, resting on the base of his neck. It’s then that Yukhei remembers what they’re here for, the little words whispered into his skin as they were making out on their couch earlier, and he almost cums then. Renjun waits for a sign, either for a rejection or for consent, not stopping or slowing down his pace in the lightest. Finally, Yukhei breathes out a, “Please.”

The first squeeze is tentative, small, nothing more than a press of his thumb, index and middle fingers to the sides of Yukhei’s neck. Still, Yukhei’s nose feels a little tingly, as does the rest of his lower head. As Renjun gains confidence that Yukhei likes this, that he wants this, his grip tightens, until Yukhei’s head lolls to the side and he’s moaning out a garbled version of Renjun’s name. He never cuts off the airflow – or, at least, not entirely –, his hold just enough to have Yukhei a bit dizzy and a lot turned on.

Renjun lets go sporadically to press down again, his pace turning erratic, his belt slapping Yukhei with every thrust forward and his jeans chaffing the inside of his thighs, but it isn’t until Renjun leans down, chest to chest with him, and tells him he can cum that Yukhei loses it. At the same time Yukhei’s climax crashes over him, Renjun squeezes one last time and kisses him, his tongue licking at Yukhei’s gums.

Yukhei swears he passes out for a second or two. When he comes back, Renjun is desperately chasing his own orgasm, the hand previously on Yukhei’s neck now holding Yukhei’s other leg up, his face still right there with Yukhei’s. Every puff of breath hits Yukhei on the face and he would give everything for another kiss right now, but he thinks Renjun is a little preoccupied at the moment. Yukhei tightens around him on purpose and Renjun’s hips stutter as he cums with a strangled moan of, “Xuxi.”

Renjun collapses on top of Yukhei, his breathing laboured, but he bounces right back up when Yukhei tries reaching out but finds he can’t really move his hands. Renjun unties him quickly, rubbing softly at the abused skin. He helps Yukhei stretch his muscles, frowning at the pained hiss from Yukhei. “I’ll go get you something for that, wait here.”

Yukhei watches him disappear into their shared bathroom, but the world is still spinning around him. Yukhei feels drunk, that pleasant buzzing feeling from when he’s toeing the line between tipsy and wasted and he wonders if it would be weird if he asked his roommate to fuck him again like that soon. He’s thinking about the proper etiquette for this kind of situation when Renjun returns to Yukhei’s room, holding several items in his hands. Yukhei notices his pants are back in place, but his shirt is still a mess.

“I brought you some painkillers for your arms,” Renjun lists off, placing the aforementioned pills on the bedside table, “And water. I also brought cream – I’m sorry about your legs.”

Not understanding what he means, Yukhei sits up and – oh. His thighs are an angry red, and he can see the exact spots the belt bruised him. Renjun has a sheepish look on his face and he’s playing with a strand of hair, and the total one sixty from before gives Yukhei whiplash.

“It’s okay,” Yukhei says softly. “They don’t look that bad. It’s kinda pretty.”

Renjun makes a sound like he choked on his saliva and laughs incredulously. “Dully noted. Lay back, I gotta take care of that.”

Yukhei does as he’s told. Renjun rubs cream into the bruises, his touch careful and feathery, and then he helps Yukhei sit up to drink his painkillers. Then, just when Yukhei thinks he’ll leave, Renjun pats his arm and tells him to, “Scoot over.”

His confusion must be clear on his face, because Renjun elaborates, “If you want me to go, I will. But I really don’t like the idea of leaving you alone after all that.”

“Isn’t that against the rules or something?” Yukhei blurts out.

Now it’s Renjun’s turn to be confused. “Actually, I think it’s worse if I do leave. Aftercare isn’t just oh, here’s a washcloth, bye now! Besides, we’re friends, right? It shouldn’t be a problem.”

Yukhei mulls it over and then decides. “Fine, but I’m the big spoon.”

“Of course you are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if your mom has never walked in on you just casually squeezing your throat so you can describe choking then you're not living life


	4. ooh ooh ooh (honey)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm back~~~

Just as they’re about to leave the beach, Jeno hears the familiar hum of an engine and ten seconds later, he sees the unmistakeable sight of Huang Renjun’s motorcycle turning the corner. Donghyuck rolls his eyes when he sees Jeno hesitate at the sidewalk, says, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” as he takes Jeno’s board from his hands and crosses the street. Jeno waves at him, his face already blushed red.

Renjun parks a few feet from him and stays put, waiting for Jeno to gather his wits. Jeno takes a deep breath and walks over, doing his best not to make it obvious how he’s checking Renjun out. It’s not Jeno’s fault, however – Renjun always looks good, and today he’s wearing the damn jacket, the same one that has Jeno emotionally nutting every time he sees it. And physically, but it’s a little early for that. 

“Hey,” Jeno breathes out. Any louder and his voice could’ve cracked embarrassingly. “I didn’t know you’d be here today.”

Renjun shrugs, a stupid little smile on his lips. “I knew you would. I missed you.”

Goddammit, is it necessary to say things like that? Jeno’s heart flips at the words. He’s only got his swim trunks on, other than his sandals, having left his phone and wallet in Donghyuck’s car, and he didn’t bother to bring a towel with him because it always got sandy and uncomfortable, and Renjun’s eyes rake over him appreciatively. Jeno swears he sees Renjun lick his lips before returning his gaze to Jeno’s eyes and a smile breaks across his face. “You coming?”

There are two different meanings behind those words, Jeno knows. He nods – to which one, who can tell? He gives Jeno his helmet and his jacket, so he doesn’t get chilly with the wind, before they take off. A swarm of butterflies riot in Jeno’s stomach.

Renjun’s apartment is off campus, two blocks away from the university. It’s his, his parents pay for the rent all the way from China and it’s the only inhabited one in the entire floor – it’s a really small town. 

The door hasn’t fully shut behind them when Renjun is pushing Jeno against it, his hands sliding under the jacket to palm at Jeno’s bare skin. Jeno is cold and Renjun’s hands are so warm, and the difference in body temperature has Jeno shivering and supressing a moan. Renjun smirks, reading Jeno like an open book, and the next second he’s surging forward for a kiss.

“Bed,” Jeno gasps out when he gets the chance. It comes out as more of a whine, and it’s embarrassing as shit, but Renjun nods either way and drags him away from the entrance hall and further inside his apartment, dumping the jacket on the floor and kicking his shoes off before they even reach his bedroom. Jeno isn’t sure when he loses his own flip-flops but he hopes it was in the apartment and not somewhere else. 

Jeno’s muscles protest when he’s thrown on the bed and manhandled to Renjun’s convenience, one leg wrapped around his waist and the other stretched out, Renjun swooping in for another kiss before he pulls away. He remains hovering over Jeno, their lips brushing when he whispers, “I wanna fuck you this time,” and Jeno knows it’s because Renjun likes to make him ache and he never turns down the chance to fuck Jeno every which way after he’s spent the day at the beach. And yet Jeno nods eagerly and his cock hardens at the thought of going to class tomorrow with the strain he’ll feel at any movement.

Renjun isn’t particularly broad, never has been, but he’s still everything Jeno can see when he sits up and straddles Jeno’s thighs, white t-shirt hanging low beneath his collarbones and off one shoulder – Jeno thinks it belonged to him at some point. Renjun drags Jeno’s swimming trunks torturously slow down his legs, Jeno’s dick slapping his lower tummy when it’s freed. Jeno groans in shame and ignores Renjun’s pleased smirk. 

“Shut up,” Jeno grumbles.

“I didn’t say anything,” Renjun shrugs. He climbs off Jeno for a second to drop the swimwear on the floor and take off his pants in the process, and then returns before Jeno can start complaining. He taps Jeno’s thigh twice and Jeno spreads his legs in a nanosecond, blushing furiously when Renjun coos, “Good boy.”

Renjun keeps his stash of lube at reach – that is, under the mattress. He pulls it out and Jeno has to look away because he doesn’t think he can handle to watch Renjun prep him. Jeno groans when Renjun grabs one of his legs and puts it back around his waist, just how they’d been earlier, and Jeno can feel the burn in his muscles, muffling a groan. His arms are sorer and he hopes Renjun doesn’t get any ideas. 

“Jeno,” Renjun murmurs. There’s no need to raise his voice, the streets eerily empty and the apartment completely quiet, but even if that weren’t the case, Renjun is never loud and much less when talking to Jeno. “Baby, can you put your hands above your head? Or does it hurt too much?”

The bastard knows the answer; his voice is so fucking condescending. Jeno grits his teeth and complies, gripping the pillow and tries not to make a sound at the pain that shoots up his nerves. Like this, it feels like his entire body is on fire. “Keep them there,” Renjun says, and it isn’t a request. 

Jeno hisses at the first finger, unused to the feeling by now. He can’t remember the last time he bottomed for anyone and it’s a tight fit, but Renjun’s careful and he goes slow, only adding a second finger when he’s sure Jeno’s ready. He scissors them apart and watches the way Jeno writhes, his knuckles turning white. Jeno wants to touch, dammit, he doesn’t care if it’s himself or Renjun; he just can’t stand having to stay still.

Meanwhile, Renjun is having a blast as he looks at Jeno falling apart on his bed. He wasn’t lying when he said he missed Jeno – and he didn’t mean just the sex, either. Renjun gets a little side-tracked while staring at Jeno’s face contort in pleasure, and he’s only broken out of his trance when Jeno forces his name past his lips and says, “Are you gonna fuck me or what?”

Renjun huffs, pulling his fingers out. In that moment that he leans over Jeno to reach his bedside table, his clothed dick brushes Jeno’s raised knee and he gasps. Jeno, sensing an opening to tip the balance to his favour, rubs his knee against the bulge again. Renjun has to plant a hand on the bed to keep his balance, but soon enough he lets Jeno draw him in for a kiss, his crotch chasing the friction.

“Oh, God,” Renjun groans. Jeno grins, jerks his knee faster and satisfaction blooms in his chest when Renjun grinds his hips and moans his name. “Fuck, stop, stop.”

Jeno wants to protest when Renjun escapes his hold, but they die in his mouth as Renjun kicks his underwear off and throws his shirt over his head. Jeno makes grabby hands at him, but Renjun is too busy guiding his cock into Jeno’s ass to pay him too much mind. They don’t even bother with a condom.

“Injunnie,” Jeno whines. Renjun looks up and finds the pout, the outstretched hands and he falls forward, soothing the hurt in Jeno’s eyes with just that. 

Renjun sets up a steady pace – a slow one, at that. It isn’t until Jeno clenches around him on accident that Renjun reacts, nearly bending Jeno in half and grabbing his hands to put them on the headboard. Like this, there’s not a set of muscles in Jeno’s body that isn’t screaming and Renjun knows this, but he’s also getting off on it. His hips slap against Jeno’s with every thrust and his face is scrunched in concentration, his breaths coming out short and heavy. He fucks Jeno for all he’s worth until Jeno is whining at him to slow down or he’ll cum.

“Think you can ride me?” Renjun asks him, his pace turning gentle. No, Jeno doesn’t think he can, but Renjun doesn’t wait for his answer before he’s flipping them over and Jeno has to scramble to hold on to something before he falls. Renjun shifts to sit comfortably against the headboard, one hand on Jeno’s waist and the other stroking his thigh. “Go on, baby.”

If looks could kill, Renjun would be ten feet under. As it stands, Renjun gives Jeno a lazy smile and a tap on his thigh, and Jeno would strangle him if he didn’t like his dick so much. 

Jeno raises himself up, lining up Renjun’s cock to his hole but not quite putting it in just yet, lets it sit between his asscheeks and teases Renjun, for a change. He grinds back, rubs the head of Renjun’s dick on his hole and watches as Renjun grows more impatient with every second. “Jeno,” Renjun warns. Jeno smiles cheekily and sinks down on Renjun’s cock, sighing when he’s sat on Renjun’s thighs.

It burns when he moves, but it’s pleasant, especially with the way Renjun holds his hips still so Jeno is stuck halfway up and thrusts into him, not letting Jeno fall back down. Renjun then fucks him at an erratic pace and Jeno comes too fast, the combination of pain and pleasure taking him over the edge.

It doesn’t take long before Renjun is coming as well, releasing inside Jeno with a strangled moan and Jeno finally collapses on top of him. Renjun slides out and rearranges Jeno carefully so he’s lying on the bed, reaching for the wet wipes he keeps on the bedside table. He cleans Jeno around his thighs, gathering the cum that’s slipping out of his ass and wiping that as well before he flops back into bed.

Jeno finds the strength to move and cuddles under Renjun’s arm, murmuring something before he falls asleep. Renjun uses his free hand and grabs his blanket, throwing it over the both of them and letting Jeno’s even breathe lull him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can you believe i have 13k for a zombie au written and it only took me four days of no internet connection


	5. pull me in

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is literally plot and like 300 words of smut but oh well i love markhyuck sue me
> 
> also this isn't betaed in the slightest, i used wordpad and that doesn't have autocorrect and i only gave this a look over before posting so when you catch the inevitable mistakes pls point them out to me so i can fix them!

the cherry flavoured gum lost its taste over fifteen minutes ago, but mark keeps chewing on it, either way. it's the only distraction he has - or rather, it's the only thing keeping him on this rooftop with his eye on the scope. he would have bolted already if it weren't for the routinary chewing motion.

mark's sure that, even without the molar mic in donghyuck's mouth and his own ear-com lodged in his ear, he'd be able to hear just fine everything that's going on inside that hotel room. as it is, mark wants to scratch his face off. he doesn't even know why he's so mad, but he has to hold back when he sees, through the reflection of the mirror, how their target shoves donghyuck's face down on the sheets.

"hyuck," mark says, slowly. he can't get affected - he's been trained not to get affected, dammit. "i need you to move him to the windows. i can't get a shot like this."

his only response is a breathy moan. mark takes a deep breath and waits. donghyuck somehow convinces the man to go over the windows and now he's pressed against the glass, hands stretched out to hold himself up, his face a cross between bliss and pain - mark knows the man didn't even bother prepping him. mark's blood boils.

"if i shoot now, you'll have to duck," mark says. "you'll get a shower of glass all over you. just give me the signal."

the 'signal' is mark's name. it was donghyuck's idea, a little mind game - as he so claimed - to let their targets know what was coming seconds before they died, but mark knows he's the real victim. mark watches as donghyuck ducks his head down, his back hunched over, his shoulder blades in plain sight, the softest, "mark," leaving his lips. the man pauses mid-thrust, his expression going from pleasure to confusion to rage, and -

mark shoots.

"i'll be there in two minutes," mark says. donghyuck groans his response.

mark hurries to pack up his shit. his rifle goes into the duffel bag, the gum dumped on the side of the railing and his cap goes even lower on his head. mark sneaks into the hotel through the front door, acting as if he belongs there, and no one stops to question him. he rides the elevator to the top floor and goes straight for the room he knows donghyuck is in.

his partner has moved from his spot by the window to the foot of the bed, though he remains on the floor. he's got his knees pulled to his chest, looking smaller than he actually is. even from as far as the door, mark can see the glass shards on his back and shoulders, even some in his hair. there's blood pooling underneath him and staining the bedsheets he's in contact with.

"hey," mark sighs. donghyuck looks fine, other than the obvious. mark knows he's been worse. "we should get going, before anyone comes upstairs. can you move?"

"i'll need help," donghyuck admits.

"okay," mark nods. "where's your underwear?" he asks, already looking around the suite.

donghyuck stays quiet for a couple of seconds. mark looks at him and is surprised to see how embarrassed he is. "he tore it," donghyuck murmurs. "i wore the panties he liked."

"oh," mark blinks. "okay, where are your pants?"

"the other side of the bed," donghyuck nods in the general direction.

mark finds the jeans discarded on the floor, and the shirt donghyuck was wearing isn't too far away. he puts the clothes on the bed and helps hoist donghyuck onto the mattress. donghyuck allows mark to pull his jeans up to his waist and zip them, hissing in pain when the shirt goes over his injured body.

"you're still bleeding," mark tuts. "we can't walk out of the hotel like this. we'll have to use the service areas. uh, there's a secure apartment about three blocks from here," mark continues. "it's closer than the base or either of our places and it's got food and medicine. i can patch you up there."

"yes, please," donghyuck agrees.

mark chucks off his jacket and gives it to donghyuck, careful as he helps him put it on. "this should cover the blood," mark says to himself.

the trip to the service doors is excruciating. donghyuck leans against mark the whole time, mark supporting his weight with a hand around his waist, the other on his gun. they have to press against the walls too many times, donghyuck suppressing his pained moans every single time. they run into their mole on their way out and all she does is offer them a tight lipped smile before scurrying away.

the fresh air from the streets allows mark to breathe again. donghyuck is limping, his breathing laboured, but mark pushes him to keep going. three minutes away from the secured location, donghyuck whines at mark to take a break, but mark presses his fingers to the small of donghyuck's back and ignores the request. it pains him, but mark won't be calm until they're at the apartment.

finally, they reach the building. mark sighs in relief and reassures donghyuck that they're fine now.

the secured apartment is devoid of most furniture, save for a lone coffee table, a couch, two chairs on the kitchen counter, and when they get to the bedroom, there's a bed and a dresser. mark leaves donghyuck on the bed and goes to the bathroom to search for the first-aid kit.

donghyuck hisses and writhes away when mark dabs his wounds with the cotton ball, but mark doesn't let him get too far. he cleans the cuts and scratches on his back, picks out the glass shards on his hair and says, "i don't think you'll need stitches. it looked worse than it is. lay down on your stomach."

"why?" donghyuck frowns.

mark sighs. "you have bruises on your thighs and lower back, not to mention on your ass, and the guy fucked you raw. you need ointment, soothing oil, maybe some band-aids - what the fuck did he even use on you?" there are welts on the surface of donghyuck's skin, all over his butt. mark kinda wishes he could kill someone all over again.

"alright," donghyuck concedes softly, rolling over.

it always surprises mark how shy donghyuck is around him. before they were partnered up, mark had seen him at the base - he didn't know his name, but he knew his face, and his reputation: donghyuck had gone through partners faster than anyone else, his longest lasting one being johnny seo, who only left the gang after he got engaged. mark knew all the rumours, about how donghyuck's number one talent was getting into people's pants, how he slept with all his partners. mark didn't really believe it, but he was still anxious when they were assigned to each other.

and at first, donghyuk lived up to his expectations. he flirted with mark like there was no tomorrow, and they kept getting tasked with missions that involved sex one way or another. and donghyuck was perfect for his role: he was breathtaking, flirty and had legs for miles. so mark assumed it made sense. but then he got to know him, and the confusion returned.

donghyuck became shier the more they bonded. before, donghyuck didn't give a single shit over mark seeing him naked or getting fucked to next tuesday, but now he covers up before mark can enter the room, avoids the windows until it's absolutely necessary and is uncharacteristically quiet while mark takes care of him after the mission is over.

"will you just, get on with it or something?" donghyuck kicks out lightly, his calf brushing mark's leg.

"sorry," mark shakes his head to clear his mind. "you never answered my question, though."

"what question?" donghyuck asks, his sentence interrupted by a pained moan as mark rubs ointment on his thighs.

"what did he use on you, hyuck?" mark repeats.

donghyuck is quiet for a few seconds as mark gets off him to look for the band-aids. "a leather belt. it had some kind of studs on it. he didn't really let me see it."

mark bristles. "i swear to god," he mutters under his breath. "i can't believe you have to sleep with these bastards."

"that's alright," donghyuck tries to shrug, but he's not really in a position to do so - plus, his shoulders are injured. "besides, it's not like i'm not into these stuff. not everything they do, but some of it."

"that doesn't mean it's okay for them to treat you like this," mark insists. it's not the first time they have this argument, but it is the first time mark lets slip out, "i'd treat you better than those assholes."

"i know you would," donghyuck whispers and mark doesn't need to look at his face to know there's a smile there.

mark doesn't reply, too embarrassed at being caught, and donghyuck falls asleep soon after that, his last sound a quiet sigh of satisfaction as mark lathers his inner thighs with some kind of healing oil he found in the bathroom.

~

a week later, they're still in the secured apartment. mark was foolish enough to rush into the suite without thinking about their target's security, too preoccupied with donghyuck, and he forgot to take them out as well. they'd seen donghyuck flirting with their boss, and now the boss is dead and donghyuck is in the wind. it really doesn't take a genius to figure it out.

so mark and donghyuck are confined here until other agents take care of the problem. and mark is three seconds away from throwing himself out the window.

it's not because they're not allowed to have contact with the outside world. no, mark doesn't have a problem with that; he's not enrolled in any classes this semester, his only friends are in the gang as well, his parents are used to not hearing from him for weeks, so it's not that. and it's not that he's bored with the food, because ten is assigned to keeping them fed and he's nice enough to buy them mcdonald's instead of whatever healthy food taeyong tries to send them. no, his problem is donghyuck.

donghyuck, who takes forever in the shower. donghyuck, who eats the last fries with a shit-eating grin on his face. donghyuck, who hogs the tv and doesn't let mark watch his american shows. donghyuck, who doesn't understand the meaning of personal space and thinks it's necessary to curl under mark's arm in the shared bed, to have his face smushed into mark's chest and acting as a blanket for the older boy - donghyuck hogs the blanket as well.

donghyuck, who smiles like the sun in the mornings and pouts at mark late at night to just, "come to bed already, it's midnight and you're my cuddle buddy." donghyuck, who makes breakfast for both of them and knows exactly how mark likes his coffee (two sugars, milk, vanilla) and knows that mark likes the apple-scented shampoo so he used the cinnamon-scented one instead.

it's all so disgustingly domestic. mark doesn't know if he likes it or not, but he knows it's making him question a lot of things about their relationship.

and then, tonight. mark figured, after dinner, that he should change the bandages again. he's been doing it every other day, to make sure the cuts don't get infected, and today should be the last time he needs to do it. so he tells donghyuck to lie down on the bed, he's going to check his wounds. and donghyuck goes willingly, throwing his pajama shirt (it's johnny's, his previous partner, but then again, most of donghyuck's clothes belonged to someone else at some point) to the ground and settling nicely in the middle of the bed.

mark decided there was no need to apply new bandages. the cuts are scarring already, none is bleeding anymore, and donghyuck hasn't complained about them in two days, so he saves the supply for another time. he's about to climb off donghyuck, straddling his thighs for better access, when donghyuck asks if he could check the rest.

mark knows what 'the rest' means. it means donghyuck is asking him to look over his ass and thighs, and mark doesn't think he's strong enough to do it, but donghyuck utters out a please and yeah, he never does that, so of course the word rushes to mark's heart and dick at the same time.

he has to be careful as he slides the pajama pants down his legs. donghyuck helps by raising his hips, his back arching just a bit, and mark has to tear his eyes away before he stays transfixed on the curve of donghyuck's body.

"it's better now," mark croaks out. "the bruising is gone, the welts are gone as well. it's just unnaturally pink."

"what?"

"i mean," mark sighs, "it's not your skin tone. your skin is pink, so it's still bruised, but it's not purple anymore. does it hurt?"

mark doesn't know what comes over him. he reaches out and pats donghyuck's bum softly, waiting to see if donghyuck feels any pain, but other than a surprised yelp, donghyuck stays on his spot. mark just keeps touching, looking for any sign of discomfort, eventually getting distracted by donghyuck's... everything.

"hyuck?" he asks again.

donghyuck says something, but it's too low for mark to hear. he asks him to repeat himself, petting his lower back where there's no bruising, no marks, just donghyuck's soft skin, and he's still completely floored when donghyuck utters out, "please."

"what?"

"please keep touching me," donghyuck requests, so low mark can barely hear him, totally embarrassed and hiding his face from mark's sight.

mark's hand stills on donghyuck's ass. he has a brief moment of hesitation, a fight or flight response coursing through him, but then donghyuck is pushing back against his hand, his back arching once more, and it's such a pretty sight. "are you sure?" mark asks.

his only response is donghyuck turning over. mark is still hovering over him, a little above his waist, but mark can still see him and - oh.

donghyuck is hard, mark thinks dumbly. he probably looks dumb as well, with his mouth hanging open the way it is. donghyuck makes an ashamed sound and drags mark down to his level, but they don't quite kiss. mark has the perfect vantage point to count all of donghyuck's lashes, to see how red his cheeks are, the quiver of his lips and, yeah, mark's going to kiss him now.

to no one's surprise, donghyuck tastes as sweetly as mark imagined. mark wants to simultaneously take it slow and make him cry, and he's torn as to how to proceed, but donghyuck makes the decision for him by tangling his fingers in mark's hair and shoving his tongue in mark's mouth.

mark takes the opportunity and wraps his hand around donghyuck's cock, the younger boy keening and thrusting into his fist. in the year mark has been working with him, he's never seen donghyuck be the center of attention during the mission - he always gives and gives, but he never receives. more than once, he's gone home still hard (how he can get an erection under those circumstances is a mystery in itself), so mark decides to focus on donghyuck tonight. he jerks him off with three fingers, rubs the underside of his head with his thumb and something about it has donghyuck moaning out and his mouth slackening.

"mark," donghyuck whines. it's indecent, really, and mark only speeds up his ministrations, wanting to see donghyuck fall apart. "hyung, please, slow down."

donghyuck doesn't mean it. it's clear as day, on his face and on the grip he has on mark's shoulders, and mark thumbs his slit and sucks on his tongue, and donghyuck cums in minutes, a cross between a whine and a moan escaping him before he clamps down around mark's tongue and bites his lower lip.

mark strokes him through his orgasm, pulling away from the kiss so he can watch the way donghyuck looks when he's coming - it's fascinating, honestly. he's beautiful, mark thinks.

he's mine, he realizes. it might be too soon to tell, if mark wants to be realistic, but there's something about the way donghyuck clung to him while shaking in his arms, how pretty he looked with his head lolled back.

mark just has to kiss him again. donghyuck is a lot more pliant this time around, drowsy from his orgasm, and he lets mark do as he pleases, only scratching his scalp and tugging on his lips when he gets impatient.

"i wanna fuck you," mark says truthfully. "can i?"

and if there's anything better than having donghyuck beneath him, is to see how fast he nods his head in consent. mark pecks his lips again, then again and again because donghyuck gets flustered, and then says, "but not tonight."

"what?" donghyuck widens his eyes. "but, i thought -"

"i want to wait, if that's alright with you?" mark asks.

"of course," donghyuck is quick to agree, but confusion and insecurity cloud his eyes and he asks, "but, why?"

mark shrugs, shy to admit, but he says, "i want to take you out on a date first."

donghyuck rolls his eyes and falls back on the pillows. "you're a sap," he informs mark. "okay. but if i'm not sitting on your dick in three weeks i'm going to be very upset."

"i don't think i'm going to last three weeks either," mark chuckles.

donghyuck pulls him down and grumbles something about cuddles, which mark is more than happy to provide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was gonna bring out the gun but i thought that might be too soon lol and if you guys have any requests or ideas for hyung line please drop them i don't want to just write about mark and 00z thanks!!!
> 
> in case you haven't noticed, i don't know how to write endings


	6. midnight calls

Donghyuck always comes on Fridays. It’s pretty much the only constant in Jeno’s life right now other than his classes, so when he fails to show up, Jeno is left feeling antsy and confused. He watches the clock tick its way to another day, and he falls asleep soon after, half-wondering if Donghyuck got tired.

The thing is, their arrangement has been going on for so long, that you could say Jeno is conditioned - conditioned to the fact that he gets vampire dick every Friday. Therefore, the next morning, Jeno wakes up to an uncomfortable boner. He’s quick to rub one out before rolling out of bed, determined not to think about how Donghyuck stood him up last night.

Jeno is able to forget all about it until the next Friday. When he leaves his last class, Jeno feels perkier than he did the whole week, and he’ll deny rushing home, but that’s what he did. Except Donghyuck doesn’t show up again. One more time, Jeno waits until midnight and sighs in frustration when the clock on his phone reads Saturday. He’s obligated to search around his drawer for the lube he hasn’t needed in over a year, but he’s not able to get off, and eventually he just lets himself go soft.

The next week, unlike the previous, he can’t just ignore it. It’s like his body is waiting for Donghyuck, and he spends all his classes shifting awkwardly in his seat; he’s hard and leaking in his pants, and he has to rush home before anyone notices, every day. Once in the safety of his room, he’ll try touching himself, pulling out every trick he knows, everything he learned from Donghyuck, but he’s left high and dry every time.

It dawns on him the next Friday of no-show that he’s not capable of orgasms without Donghyuck. Isn’t that just peachy? Jeno can’t believe he relies on a vampire to get off now. He drowns in his own sorrow for another week, perpetually turned on and unable to do anything about it. It’s absolute hell.

The next Friday, Jeno has resigned himself to curl into a ball in his couch and watch old shows in the history channel until he falls asleep. He goes through the motions when he gets home, dumps his bag on the floor by his shoe rack and takes his jacket off, goes to the kitchen to munch on sandwich bread and goes to his room, ready to discard his clothes, wrap his blanket around his body and doze on the couch. But there’s someone waiting for him.

“Donghyuck?” Jeno squeaks.

The vampire is just there, lounging on the recliner Jeno keeps by the window, as if he hadn’t made Jeno question his self-worth for over a whole month. He’s wearing that pretty sweater he stole from Jeno over six months ago, the pink one, tapping away at his phone. He doesn’t even bother to look away from the screen to greet Jeno, muttering a, “Hey.”

“What are you doing here?” Jeno asks carefully. He kinda wants to crawl under the covers of his bed and sleep, but he also wants to kiss Donghyuck, so he goes for the safe bet and stays away.

“We always meet on Fridays,” Donghyuck says it as if it’s supposed to be obvious.

“You haven’t come by in over a month,” Jeno points out.

Donghyuck finally puts his phone away and smiles, secretive. It’s so annoying; Jeno wants to kiss that damn smirk away. “I was performing a little experiment,” is all he says. “Today seemed like a good day to collect the results.”

“What kind of experiment?” Jeno eyes him. “And you could have called, you know? Or sent a smoke signal or something.” Jeno didn’t mean to sound quite so pitiful, but he couldn’t help it. He was genuinely hurt after not hearing from Donghyuck for so long.

“Come here,” Donghyuck beckons him closer instead of offering an answer, and Jeno might just be the weakest man on the planet, because he goes along. Donghyuck smiles when he sees Jeno walk over to him, stretching his arms to make room. And honestly, vampires aren’t supposed to look so cute; the red eyes and the small fangs on Donghyuck’s face contrast with the big grin and grabby hands in ways that make Jeno’s heart stutter. The fangs are barely visible since they’re at their default size, but Jeno knows they can get a heck of a lot longer and sharper when Donghyuck is about to feed.

“Wait,” Jeno halts mid-step. “Does this mean you’ve been feeding from someone else all this time?”

“I have blood bags at my place,” Donghyuck shakes his head. That flicker of insecurity dies down at the reassurance and Jeno is more than happy to go to Donghyuck now.

In spite of the common idea among the community – Donghyuck’s clan, whom like to refer to Jeno as his human pet, and that’s the nicest name they have for him – Jeno isn’t the neediest one of the two. They all think Jeno is like the other humans that hang around vampires, the ones who enjoy being fed from, that he has some kind of perpetual boner for Donghyuck (he totally does) and spends his time mooning over the vampire when they aren’t together (he d0esn’t). They also seem to be under the impression that Donghyuck is some kind of suave, smooth guy that has Jeno wrapped around his finger while he remains cool and aloof, when the reality is that he melts the second Jeno kisses him and he’s actually not that into drinking from him.

Donghyuck holds Jeno like he doesn’t want to ever let him go, which is funny because he’s who stayed away for so long. He’s always been very passionate with his kissing, if a little sloppy, and he’s always everywhere. Jeno moves around in an attempt to get more comfortable, but that’s not possible given the armchairs are in the way, and all he really succeeds in is rubbing against Donghyuck. The vampire grips his hips tightly, possibly to keep him still or maybe to keep him going – it’s hard to tell, what with the darkness of the room and the fact Jeno has his attention focused on Donghyuck’s lips.

The fangs hook on Jeno’s bottom lip and tear into his skin, making him bleed when Donghyuck pulls away. A drop of blood lands on Jeno’s chin and Donghyuck stares at it in hunger – a pang of desire jolts through Jeno. The human leans forward once more and kisses Donghyuck, revelling in the tongue that sweeps up his blood and dives into his mouth afterwards.

“Bed,” Donghyuck mutters between one kiss and another.

Jeno almost trips and lands on his ass when he tries getting up but Donghyuck steadies him with one – ridiculously, supernaturally – strong hand and guides him to the bed. Jeno barely gives Donghyuck enough time to straddle him before he pulls him down and kisses him again, his body thrumming in excitement. He’s already straining painfully against his pants and he wonders how much longer Donghyuck will keep up the foreplay.

“You wanna know what the experiment was?” Donghyuck asks. He’s wearing a cheeky little smile and his eyes are twinkling in mischief. Jeno thinks he nods. “Some of the other guys were talking about it. They said that when humans go too long without being fed from after their bodies get used to it, there are… reactions. The human body gets so used to the feeding; it can go haywire if it doesn’t happen. And according to Jungwoo, if there’s sex involved… it is better. Or worse. It depends on your point of view.”

“So?” Jeno mumbles.

Donghyuck doesn’t reply. Instead, he grinds down and watches in satisfaction as Jeno gasps and bucks his hips forward, desperate for friction. “So,” Donghyuck says conversationally, “We haven’t fucked in weeks and I haven’t fed from you, which means you’re about to snap like a rubber band.”

“Then fucking do something,” Jeno grits out.

Their clothes are gone in an instant. Jeno tries reaching for his nightstand but Donghyuck holds him in place with only one hand, a playful smile on his face. Jeno watches as Donghyuck stretches over him to open the top drawer, his ribs pressing to his side. Jeno has half a mind to trace them with his fingers, but Donghyuck is back before he can do it. Donghyuck’s face is pensive for a second before he asks, “Do you have any preference for tonight?”

Jeno would typically say he doesn’t care, but seeing Donghyuck sat on top of him has him blurting out, “Ride me.” Donghyuck might have blushed if he still had blood in his veins. All he does is nod a little hurriedly and rush Jeno to sit up against the headboard. Like this, Donghyuck is face to face with Jeno, their bodies a lot closer than they were before; Jeno could count the eyelashes on Donghyuck if he wanted to.

“Do you want me to…?” Jeno licks his lips, wincing at how dry his mouth feels. But that’s just the effect Donghyuck has on him.

As if a switch has been flipped, Donghyuck’s previously flustered expression changes for one of near superiority and he gives Jeno a lopsided smile, says, “That’s okay, babe, you stay there.”

Jeno can’t actually see what Donghyuck is doing, but he can see how it makes him feel, and it’s even better. Jeno is fascinated by Donghyuck’s every little gesture, from the scrunched up nose whenever he adds a finger inside him to the furrow of his eyebrows as he looks for the right angle. Jeno wants to touch him – he doesn’t know why he suggested otherwise, knowing Donghyuck will choose to torture him instead – but he gets batted away by Donghyuck the two times he tries to, and then he just lets his hand rest on Donghyuck’s waist, the other limp at his side.

Donghyuck must reach a good spot because he arches his back and makes a keening sound in the back of his throat that Jeno would have called a whine if he didn’t know better. Donghyuck becomes slightly frantic then, rocking his hips in tandem with his hand and he accidentally ruts his dick against Jeno’s. Jeno hisses, his hand instinctively gripping tighter on Donghyuck’s waist and bucks forward as well. Donghyuck is about to protest when Jeno kisses him to shut him up.

Several more minutes pass by before Donghyuck pants that he’s ready. Jeno feels his heart threaten to thump out of his chest as he watches Donghyuck line up his cock to his hole. But what might be the best part is how Donghyuck’s fangs descend further as he bottoms out, poking his lower lip and making him look even more beautiful. It also serves as a reminder to the both of them that Donghyuck hasn’t had fresh human blood in weeks.

“Come on, Hyuck,” Jeno encourages him. Donghyuck doesn’t need to be told twice and he dives in, his fangs piercing the tender skin on Jeno’s neck.

Jeno had almost forgotten how it felt to have Donghyuck drink from him. Electricity runs through him, but at the same time he feels drowsy, sleepy. He knows he can trust Donghyuck to stop before Jeno is in any danger, but it still thrills him. Donghyuck is hunched over him, holding Jeno down as he sucks at his neck and rides him at the same time, which is excellent multi-tasking, in Jeno’s opinion. As it is, Jeno doesn’t think he could even try to fuck him in the state he’s in right now.

“Hyuck,” Jeno gasps. He’s feeling more lightheaded now and it scares him. Jeno claws at Donghyuck’s torso, digging his nails in and maybe that’s what has Donghyuck snapping back to reality. But he doesn’t slow down, just moves his hips faster and forces his tongue past Jeno’s lip. He tastes like blood and Jeno can’t help it when he cums with a strangled groan and his hips buck up, his legs shaking.

Jeno accidentally bites his own tongue when Donghyuck clamps down around him and Donghyuck moans as his orgasm hits as well, never separating from Jeno’s lips. Finally, he slows down until he’s sitting still atop of Jeno and he offers Jeno a lazy smile.

“I missed you,” Donghyuck whispers. Jeno hums, too out of it to say it back. But he always gets like this after Donghyuck feeds from him and Donghyuck knows he just needs to get his blood levels back up. “Stay here, I’ll get you something to drink.”

An attempted protest leaves Jeno, but it goes ignored. Jeno grimaces at the slick sound that resonates around the room when Donghyuck pulls off him, embarrassed despite everything. Donghyuck rolls his eyes fondly and repeats his order to stay. Jeno can’t honestly move, so he just snuggles into his bed sheets and watches Donghyuck pull on a shirt and disappear into the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -. i know i haven't replied to any of your messaes on cc or twitter and i'm so sorry, there's just been a lot going on in my life lately and i haven't had the time to take a seat and do it, but i promise that when things calm down i will get right to it!!  
> -. those of you who have left requests on the comments are okay, but if anyone has left any on my cc please resend them here on the comments!! i tend to confuse requests for the drabbles with requests for scenarios on cc and i don't want to disappoint anyone so !! leave your requests for these drabbles here !!


	7. I wish you love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all hail tenwin

When Ten said he had a surprise, Sicheng certainly didn’t expect this. 

“This is a dress,” Sicheng says pointedly. He’s holding the garment with two fingers from each hand, his arms outstretched, but his eyes are on Ten. 

“It is,” Ten nods, a tentative grin playing on his lips. “Do you like it?”

Sicheng wants to lie. And he _could_ lie, tell Ten that the dress is hideous, just to see that little sparkle in his eyes die, and he probably would have done it during the first few centuries after their marriage. Back then, all Sicheng did was go out of his way to kick Ten where it hurt, his way of rebelling against him, of saying _I don’t like you and I never will._

But Sicheng just can’t bring himself to do it. Over time, Ten has become someone Sicheng could rely on, in his own, quirky little way, and it’s harder to dull his spirit than it was before. Sicheng hates that Ten is making an effort and that it makes him try, as well, in return. It’s not just the gifts, of course, but a lot of other things, simple gestures that Ten wouldn’t have done in another life. 

“It’s pretty,” Sicheng admits slowly. He looks back at the dress, studying it: it’s simple, simpler than anything Ten has ever given him, made entirely of golden silk with flowery patterns in white lace and thin straps. The skirt is long enough it will probably reach the floor if Sicheng puts it on. “Thank you,” he adds, softly. 

Ten smiles; the smile is too bright for someone who runs the Underworld. “I’m happy you like it. I’ll see you later,” he says, and then he’s gone. Sicheng is alone in his chambers, with only the dress and his flowers for company. 

~

In spite of everything, Sicheng wears the dress that night. When a skeleton comes fetch him for dinner, Sicheng takes one last glimpse in the mirror before he follows it to the dining room. The flowers along the halls bloom in his presence as he walks past them. 

Ten is waiting for him at the table, sat at the head as usual, clad in simple slacks and navy blue shirt. Sicheng takes the seat to his right without acknowledging his stare; Sicheng is aware he looks good in the dress, albeit he admitted so to himself begrudgingly. Sicheng was hoping it would look terrible, just to have the pleasure of saying so to Ten, but instead he found it suits him; the golden is pretty against his skin, his hair looks darker and the flowers are fitting for his spring. 

“Will anyone be joining us tonight?” Sicheng asks. They often eat alone, but every once in a while one of Ten’s lieutenants will come by, sometimes another god. Sicheng likes it when Kun comes to visit him, but it only makes him miss his brother even more when he leaves, and some of the minor gods are fun to have around, like Mark and Renjun. Even Yuta, the god of war, is good company. Living with a temperamental god and his army of skeletons really makes you appreciate even the most annoying of gods – including the god of bloodbaths. 

(Sicheng won’t admit it out loud, but he kind of enjoys how jealous Ten gets when Yuta is around, because the younger god flirts with Sicheng and it never fails to make Ten’s blood boil.)

“No,” Ten shakes his head. His eyes are on Sicheng, roaming over his hair to his shoulders and his hands and then going to his face, where they linger; Sicheng had put on a little makeup, lipstick, mascara and eyeliner. Sicheng feels a prickle at the back of his neck, but it isn’t unwelcomed; after centuries, Ten still makes him nervous, still makes his skin crawl in excitement and nerves. “Just you and me.”

How he manages to make Sicheng flush red with just four words is beyond Sicheng’s understanding. Ten’s lips quirk up, most likely because he can see how flustered Sicheng feels, and it’s entirely too distracting. 

“I have something for you,” Sicheng blurts out. It does the trick, Ten raising his eyebrows in surprise. Sicheng can’t blame him; in the centuries they’ve been married, Ten has given him countless of gifts, but Sicheng can count on one hand how many he’s given Ten. A flutter of guilt sparks in his chest. “It’s nothing much,” he continues, “But I hope you like it.”

A spark of light later, Sicheng is holding a flower crown in his hands. Ten has always been open to Sicheng growing flowers and trees around the castle and the gardens, but he’d never shown much interest in them. “I just thought -” Sicheng licks his lips. He hates how nervous he’s feeling. _They’re just flowers,_ he thinks to himself. “I have my flowers, and now you have some, as well.”

Ten’s face is unreadable for some long seconds. Sicheng thinks he might pass out if Ten doesn’t say anything soon. “I don’t know what to say,” Ten murmurs. He hasn’t stopped staring at the crown yet. “Thank you, Sicheng.”

 _Sicheng._ Not a petname, not _my love_ or _darling_ but his name. Gods, Sicheng doesn’t know how he’s feeling. “You’re welcome,” he croaks out. It’s awkward, until Ten reaches forward and tries to take the crown, but Sicheng pulls it back. “Let me,” he says. 

Ten nods his permission. Sicheng wills his heart to stop racing while he drags his chair closer to Ten’s, until their knees are touching, and he can place the crown on Ten’s head. It’s lovely, even if the combination of flowers shouldn’t go together the way it does, Sicheng thinks, but Ten makes it look perfect: there are honeysuckles, amaryllises, yellow acacias and, most importantly, ambrosias and forget-me-nots. Sicheng knows Ten has no idea what they mean, but Sicheng does, and he’s happy with keeping his little confession a secret. 

Sicheng lets his hands fall to his sides once the crown is secure, but Ten catches them at the last second. Sicheng hears a roar in his ears as he watches Ten come closer, but it disappears when their lips touch. Kissing Ten never gets old, no matter how much time passes. Ten smells like pomegranates, like fancy cologne and wine. 

“You look beautiful,” Ten tells him, their lips brushing together with every syllable. Sicheng wants to kiss him again, especially when Ten brushes his hair out of his face and looks at him with clouded eyes. 

But Ten straightens up, retreats his hands and Sicheng is left with his lips tingling and his heart racing. The skeletons must have served dinner sometime while they kissed because Ten’s already eating when Sicheng gathers the strength to sit upright once more. 

~

Sicheng falls asleep without noticing. There’s no such thing as day or night in the Underworld, but the castle has clocks attuned to the time in New York. Sicheng tries to stick to a regular schedule, which is why he often goes to bed when the clocks read ten pm or later. 

When Sicheng wakes up, it’s nearing two am and he’s still wearing the dress. Sicheng must have nodded off while writing a letter to Kun, because he accidentally wrinkled the paper with his hand. 

Almost without thinking, Sicheng walks out of his bedroom and towards the throne room. Ten spends most of his spare time there, sat at his throne with a glass of wine in his hand and staring out to his realm. Or at least that’s what he sees when he’s alone; the second Sicheng walks into the room, the view changes to a meadow, a mountain or a lake. It’s one of Ten’s ways to make him feel more comfortable. 

Tonight, it switches to a moonlit beach from the point of view of a cliff. If Sicheng pays enough attention, he can hear the waves crashing against the rocks. Ten turns around when the scenery changes, but he knows it’s just Sicheng. Ten is still wearing the crown, tilted to the side. 

“Hey,” Sicheng breathes out when he’s standing in front of Ten. His throne is made of stygian iron, as are most things in the castle, and it’s big enough that the two can fit if Sicheng tucks his legs. “Are you busy?”

“Never for you,” Ten smiles charmingly, and Sicheng has to roll his eyes. He can tell the difference between honest Ten and Casanova Ten, and this is definitely the latter. Sicheng doesn’t bother with a response until Ten’s smile softens and asks, “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Kind of,” Sicheng shrugs. Ten opens his arms in a silent invitation and Sicheng goes willingly, sitting sideways on his lap. His dress graces the floor even after Sicheng draws his legs up and sticks his feet between the cushion and the armchair. Ten loops an arm around Sicheng’s waist and the other rests on his covered thigh, hooking his chin over Sicheng’s exposed shoulder. “You?”

“I was thinking,” Ten says quietly. 

“About what?” Sicheng asks. 

“How lovely you look in that dress,” Ten smiles. Sicheng’s heart falters when Ten turns his head just enough to lay a peck on Sicheng’s shoulder, and then his lips trail upwards until they reach the juncture between his shoulder and neck. Sicheng sucks in a breath as Ten bites lightly at his skin, soothing the sting with another kiss. 

The hand on Sicheng’s lap moves down to his knees, bunches up the dress and Ten slides his hand underneath. Sicheng feels it curve over his thigh possessively, the touch scorching hot. Sicheng squirms around, feeling too hot all of a sudden, and he doesn’t stop moving until his legs are hanging over the edge of the throne and his head is at chest level with Ten. He was trying to get away from Ten - from his kisses and his touch that were so dangerous to Sicheng - but he couldn’t even bear to separate from him before his body started to protest.

Ten’s hand continues to explore Sicheng’s legs, moving further up his thigh until – “You’re not wearing any underwear,” Ten states. 

Sicheng shrugs. “Nothing I own went with the dress.”

“Maybe I should get you panties,” Ten teases, but Sicheng makes a hum as if he’s considering it and Ten’s smile broadens. “Gods, you’re wonderful.”

“I know,” Sicheng winks. Ten laughs, cups Sicheng’s face and leans down to kiss him. It’s slow and sweet at first, but it doesn’t stay that way for much; Ten gets impatient and Sicheng has been thrumming with need all night. Ten’s hand under the skirt finds Sicheng’s cock and he starts tugging it carefully, his touch barely there. It drives Sicheng crazy and he bites Ten’s bottom lip in protest. 

There’s a sudden drop in the air. Sicheng opens his eyes, he’s in Ten’s bedroom, laid over the silk sheets. Sicheng will never get over the dramatics of the red silk on a mahogany four-poster bed. Ten hovers over him, his eyes glinting in the darkness of his room. 

“I hate shadow travel,” Sicheng reminds him. He’s always felt dizzy afterwards. 

“I had to get us here and I didn’t want to move much,” Ten shrugs. “Sorry, darling.”

There he goes with the petnames again. “It’s alright,” Sicheng says, pretending as if he isn’t on fire. “You can go back to kissing me now.”

Ten does so, murmuring something too low for Sicheng to hear right before their mouths crash together. Ten kisses with near desperation, tugging Sicheng’s upper lip with his teeth and licking at his gums, one of his hands carding through Sicheng’s hair and pulling on the strands. Sicheng tries sitting up to get closer to him, to touch him easier, but Ten pushes him back down so he’s flat on his back and pulls away, hovering over him. Ten has a predatory look in his eyes, one that makes Sicheng feel smaller, at his mercy. 

Ten moves before Sicheng can even begin to open his mouth. He spreads Sicheng’s legs and moves the dress out of the way, kneeling with a hand on each of Sicheng’s thighs. He’s staring at Sicheng, his eyes roaming over his legs, his cock that’s spurting precum and his ass on display. Sicheng would cover up if he didn’t feel pinned down by Ten’s stare. 

“I’m going to -” Ten starts, but he interrupts himself. He shakes his head once before he continues, “Can I eat you out, love?”

Sicheng blinks up at him. Ten never asks for permission to do anything; he stops if Sicheng doesn’t want to keep going or doesn’t like what he’s doing, but he never outright asks if he can do something. And the _way_ he said it, that’s what gets to Sicheng. 

“Yes,” Sicheng nods. Ten lights up as he scoots further down the bed, laying down on his front. Ten’s hands on his legs move to hook over his thighs and then he’s dragging Sicheng down, and Sicheng has to take a deep breath to steel his nerves. 

He can feel Ten’s warm breath hit his perineum first, then his cock. Sicheng hisses in surprise and then chokes on a moan when Ten suddenly mouths at the base of his dick, dark eyes peering up at him. Sicheng can’t bear to hold eye contact for more than mere seconds and he lets his head drop back to the pillow as Ten licks up to the head and takes it into his mouth, but he doesn’t do much more than suck on the tip before he pulls back. Sicheng is disappointed for all of three seconds until Ten’s tongue pokes his rim. 

Ten is careful as he stretches Sicheng’s legs, firmly asking him to hold them against his chest. He then he uses a hand to spread Sicheng’s asscheeks apart, the other forming a ring around the base of Sicheng’s shaft. Sicheng would kick him if he could, but Ten’s given him a silent order to stay still and Sicheng is nothing if not obedient when they fuck. 

Ten is messy during sex. Sicheng has known this for so long, yet he’s still surprised when Ten goes ahead and plunges his tongue in his hole without giving him a warning, licking at his walls without shame. Sicheng swallows back an embarrassing sound that would only make Ten smugger than he already is and stares at the ceiling with unseeing eyes while Ten sucks on his rim and bites the skin around his hole. 

“Ten.” Sicheng gasps at the finger that Ten sneaks in along with his tongue. He hisses, “Shit.”

Sicheng can’t actually see him, but he feels Ten smiling against his rim. Ten pushes his tongue in until his nose is pressed to Sicheng’s skin and licks around, pulling away to add a second finger and going back, a humiliating slurp resounding around the room. Sicheng lets go of one of his legs to card his fingers through Ten’s hair and keep him in place, feeling like he’s going to explode. Ten always makes him feel like that, like he’s teetering at the edge of a cliff and the only thing keeping him from doing so is Ten’s warmth pressed against him.

Ten retreats minutes later, Sicheng’s hand falling limply to the bed. Sicheng looks at him, at the saliva on his chin and the stupid grin on his face and keens, so close but unable to cum thanks to the hand on his dick. A stream of pleads pour out of his mouth, unbidden. “Please, kiss me,” Sicheng says finally, his voice barely above a whisper. 

He’s still fingering Sicheng when Ten leans down and kisses him. Sicheng doesn’t even care that he was just eating his ass; he just wants to feel Ten’s lips on his, a sort of raw desperation that takes him by surprise. Ten laughs into his mouth when Sicheng claws at his shirt and fails to get it off, his fingers speeding up and rendering Sicheng useless to do anything but beg and moan. When Ten finds his prostrate, Sicheng’s back leaves the bed and he moans Ten’s name like a prayer. Ten could probably get off just from this, from seeing his pretty little husband trash around the bed under his ministrations – and the dress is just the icing on the cake.

Ten continues to abuse his spot for who knows how long, only lets him cum after Sicheng’s voice has gone hoarse and his cheeks are wet with tears of desperation. Sicheng is gasping for air when Ten leans in close, their lips barely touching, and whispers, “Cum for me, love,” as he lets go of his cock. Sicheng’s body coils tight before letting go in seconds and he sprays them both, although Ten’s shirt gets the worst of it. 

“You just came untouched,” Ten _giggles_ at the information. Sicheng wants to roll his eyes, but he’s too busy trying to get air into his lungs. “Baby, you were so good,” Ten coos. 

He’s gentle while removing the dress from Sicheng’s body, placing it on a chair nearby and returning to the bed with a towel to clean him up. Sicheng lifts a hand and grabs Ten’s belt, using it as leverage to sit up and kisses Ten, taking him by surprise. 

“Can I?” Sicheng asks, gracing Ten’s bulge with careful fingers. 

Ten debates with himself for a second, but then he sees Sicheng’s eyeliner smudged around the edges of his eyes, his lipstick smeared and he thinks he could do worse. “Let me fuck your mouth,” Ten says, already getting rid of his clothes. Sicheng nods so fast he’s embarrassed. He lies back on the bed and breathes deeply while Ten positions himself over his head. 

Sicheng won’t say it, but he likes to feel Ten’s cock heavy on his tongue, the saltiness of his precum. Ten slides through his lips in one go, uncaring about going slow, the head hitting the back of his throat. Ten has one hand on Sicheng’s neck and he squeezes every time his cock goes down, and Sicheng feels dizzy with suffocation and pleasure. 

“You look so pretty,” Ten whispers, and he sounds too affectionate for what they’re doing. “So pretty, darling.”

Sicheng tries to moan, but Ten thrusts his hips harshly and he does chokes this time, his chest heaving until Ten pulls away to let him breath. A string of saliva still connects Sicheng’s lips to his cock and Sicheng’s head spins, tears springing from his eyes. Ten only gives him a couple of seconds before he’s forcing his dick back into his mouth, using his free hand to jerk himself off while Sicheng sucks on the head and tries to push him further in.

“Can I cum in your mouth?” Ten asks. Sicheng nearly breaks his neck with how hard he nods, pushing with his heels to get closer to Ten, until the tip is bulging against his neck and Ten presses down on the spot. When his orgasm hits, his hips snap and Sicheng gasps, chokes on his cum and yet Ten doesn’t move, he keeps Sicheng locked in place while he rides out his high.

“Ten,” Sicheng croaks out when he can. His throat feels raw and his lips and chin are wet with saliva, cum and tears. Ten looks down at him and then he’s kissing him, holding Sicheng’s jaw open with his hand and licks into his mouth, tasting himself on Sicheng’s tongue.

“You did so well,” Ten whispers, over and over, peppering Sicheng’s cheeks with kiss after kiss. “So, so good, my love, so good.”

Sicheng must fall asleep momentarily, because the next thing he knows he’s clean, under the blankets with Ten pressed to his side. Ten, however shorter he is, like to have Sicheng tucked under his arm, Sicheng halfway on his chest. 

“Thank you for the dress,” Sicheng says quietly. Ten hums, pleased, running a soothing hand over his back. “Ten?”

“Yeah?” Ten sounds tired, Sicheng thinks. Well, how could he not, when he has so much to do every day – people should stop dying for a day or two, just so Ten can have a vacation. The clock is ticking closer to four am before Sicheng speaks up again. 

“I love you,” Sicheng says. For a horrifying second, Ten doesn’t answer, and Sicheng begins to doubt everything he’d taken as a sign. He’s ready to sprint out of the room when Ten finally replies, nothing more than a whisper pressed to the crown of his head, “I love you, too, Sicheng. For a long time.”

“I know,” Sicheng whispers. “I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” Ten shakes his head. “Now, sleep, yeah? Long day ahead.”

Sicheng doesn’t know what he means by that, but he’s asleep before he can begin to question it. 

~

The next morning, Kun is waiting for him in the entrance hall of the castle. Sicheng is too surprised to do much other than gape at him. 

“But,” he fumbles, “It’s not time yet.”

“No,” Kun agrees, an easy smile on his face. “But Ten here said you’ve missed me, so I came by to take you on a date! We’re going to mother’s gardens.”

Sicheng whips his head around to stare at Ten. Ten is, shockingly enough, shyly looking away from him, standing by the wall. He’s got the flower crown secure on his head. Sicheng thinks he sees him hide something behind his back, but Kun is talking once more and Sicheng returns his attention to his brother. 

“Xuxi is coming too!” Kun is saying and tears spring to Sicheng’s eyes – fuck, he hasn’t seen Yukhei in _centuries_ and he misses his little brother. “I’ll wait in the gardens, you go get ready.”

With one last sly look in Ten’s direction, Kun turns around. Sicheng stares after Kun as he leaves the hall, accompanied by a skeleton. Sicheng smiles when he hears him chat up the guard, even if most of the skeletons in the castle are so old they’ve forgotten how to speak. 

“Ten,” Sicheng says. He doesn’t know how to express his feelings; he doesn’t even know what the hell he’s feeling. He’s never left the castle before it’s time for him to bring spring and summer to the mortal world, because it wasn’t part of the deal and this… this was unexpected. “Thank you.”

Ten smiles carefully, approaching him. Once they’re standing face to face, he outstretches his hand and Sicheng sees he’s got a bouquet of flowers tight in his grip. “For you,” Ten tells him, as if he needs to specify. “Kun helped me pick them out.”

Sicheng stares at the flowers: alyssums, angelicas, amaranths, water lilies and forget-me-nots. There’s got to be some kind of spell to keep the water lilies alive, but that’s the last thing in Sicheng’s mind. All he can think of is if Ten knows what the flowers mean, if he chose them on purpose, if Kun did it, if Kun is trying to hurt Sicheng – but that can’t be it, Kun would never do that. This means –

“I know,” Ten says slowly, “what they mean. That was why I needed Kun’s help. I’d actually planned the whole thing days ago so if anything you stole my idea with the crown,” he adds playfully. When Sicheng only continues to stare at him, he sobers up again. “Anyway. I hope you accept them.”

“Of course I do,” Sicheng grumbles. He didn’t mean to sound snappy, but Ten makes him feel like a fish out of water. “They’re beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful,” Ten says, absentmindedly, and then he looks horrified he said that out loud. Sicheng takes the bouquet carefully, cradling the flowers to his chest before he says, “I meant those, too,” staring at the crown. 

Ten’s smile is blinding. 


	8. what a time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's a little dotae! for jaeminstoplip

Taeyong looks around nervously and wonders if it’s obvious. Rationally, he should know it isn’t, but he’s paranoid, regardless.

He arrived early to his last lecture of the day, as per usual, because it’s Doyoung’s. The entire day had been torture; the devious little thing nearly slipped out of him during Music Theory when he stood up to leave the class. Taeyong doesn’t think he’d ever been more terrified in his life.

Thankfully, he knows Doyoung won’t mess with him too much, because it’s his own class. The older man is very sensitive about his lectures and gets upset whenever Taeyong dozes off. Taeyong sits at his usual place and waits patiently for class to begin.

At 7:00pm sharp, Doyoung walks into the classroom. The girls all around Taeyong swoon at his handsome face, but Taeyong is more preoccupied checking out his arms to bother. All of a sudden, the plug begins to vibrate and Taeyong has to hold in a gasp. When he looks up, he sees Doyoung play with his phone for a moment before looking up and meeting eyes with him. Doyoung smiles and starts the class.

He seems to have the vibrator in the lowest setting because Taeyong only feels a mere buzzing. For the next hour and a half Taeyong has to make a conscious effort not to moan aloud, not to mention stay completely still so the plug won’t bump into his prostate. That would be hell. When class ends, Taeyong has a thin layer of sweat gathered in his forehead and his limbs feels like lead. He stays behind as everyone gets up and leaves with the pretence of rearranging his notes, but he’s actually waiting to be alone with Doyoung so he can whine and beg for mercy. However, there’s a cluster of girls at the door, giggling among themselves and then one of them is pushed forward by her friends and she stumbles over her feet, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and walks to Doyoung’s desk. Taeyong can’t help but notice how good Doyoung looks with the sleeves of his white dress shirt pushed back to his elbows.

The girl (Kim Hyemi, if Taeyong remembers correctly) holds a white envelop in her hands. Taeyong knows exactly what’s on that envelope; practically everyone in the business faculty has had a crush on Doyoung at one point or another. Some students even sign up for his class just to see him, regardless of their majors, Taeyong included. He’s majoring in Music, for God’s sake. And even if it weren’t like that, the tell-tale blush on her cheeks is an obvious indicator. Doyoung, perfectly oblivious, is still packing his books away into his messenger bag (the one Taeyong got him for his birthday).

Taeyong watches the girl put on a confident smile and stride forward. Doyoung finally looks up when she’s close enough and even blushes when she hands him the envelope. Taeyong forgets all about the plug inside him as he waits for Doyoung to answer. It isn’t exactly forbidden for teachers to date their students, as long as they aren’t in the same faculty and the students are over 21 years old, hence why so many of them confess to Doyoung so often (and to Professor Qian, Taeyong’s music comp teacher). However, Taeyong isn’t sure Doyoung’s going to let someone else know about their relationship.

“I’m sorry,” Doyoung bows, rejecting the letter, “I’m in a relationship with someone. But… thank you. I’m flattered.”

Taeyong can’t see her expression from where he’s sitting, but he doesn’t need to see her to know she must look crestfallen. She walks away quickly, and her friends run after her in shock. Taeyong waits patiently in his seat for Doyoung to acknowledge him.

“Are you ready to go home?”

~

The ride back to Doyoung’s apartment is absolute torture. Doyoung drives with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on Taeyong’s thigh, rubbing comforting circles in the inside of his thigh as Taeyong writhes around the seat and curses Doyoung under his breath.

Doyoung is far too smug about the entire thing. His phone lies on his seat, between his spread legs, the app connected to the plug open on the screen. Every couple of minutes, Doyoung will retreat his hand from Taeyong’s thigh to play with the intensity; sometimes he lowers the strength, but one time he turns it all the way up and Taeyong comes two seconds later, a surprised moan ripping out of him.

After what feels like death and resurrection, they reach the building. Doyoung lives on the penthouse, bought with the money he made thanks to some very smart investments, and all he has to do is park his car and carry Taeyong into the elevator in the parking lot floor. Taeyong leans against him the entire ride up, feeling itchy and too warm. Doyoung, the shit, only pats his back and pulls back whenever Taeyong whimpers and tries rutting against his leg, smirking when he turns the dial up again and Taeyong crumbles to his knees, his pants staining further. Doyoung helps him up and lets Taeyong cling to him.

Taeyong has asked him before why Doyoung is in a teaching job when he seems so good at money and numbers and he could probably get something at a big firm, but Doyoung claims he likes the free time he gets as a professor and that working at a firm would turn him into a tie-wearing zombie. Taeyong never told him, but he’s glad Doyoung wants to be a professor; they wouldn’t have met, otherwise.

Doyoung has the gallantry to carry him inside, mostly because they both know Taeyong is three seconds away from collapsing. They only make it to the couch, however, before Doyoung decides he doesn’t want to wait any further. Taeyong lets Doyoung manhandle him into a sitting position over Doyoung, the older man smiling when Taeyong grips his shirt with both hands and grinds his hips down.

“Look at you,” Doyoung coos at him. “You’ve cum twice already? Your pants are ruined, baby.”

“I hate you,” Taeyong groans.

Doyoung hums his response, aware he doesn’t mean it. Taeyong watches Doyoung unbuckle his belt and undo his jeans, pulling the fabric down along with his boxers; Taeyong feels exposed all of a sudden, and he hisses when the cold air hits the damp skin. Doyoung moves Taeyong to lie on his back and helps him remove his shoes, pulling the pants down and then wrestles the hoodie Taeyong wore off his body.

Taeyong blushes under the intensity of Doyoung’s stare; the man’s eyes roam over his naked body, his cock half-hard against his thigh and the vibrator that’s slipping out of his hole. “Will you stop that?” Taeyong mumbles.

“Stop what?” Doyoung smiles. The little fucker knows exactly what, but he enjoys tormenting Taeyong. “It’s not my fault you look so handsome tonight.”

Doyoung was the first person ever to call him handsome. Taeyong is used to being called ‘pretty’ and ‘dainty’ but Doyoung only ever does so when he pulls him over his lap and spanks him or Taeyong is so far in his headspace he only responds to petnames like ‘kitten’ and ‘baby boy’.

And speaking of. “Baby boy,” Doyoung murmurs, “are you still with me?”

“Yeah,” Taeyong thinks he nods. His mind is feeling jumbled and he’s slowly getting hard again, surprisingly, especially under the weight of Doyoung’s eyes on him. “I’m okay, hyung.”

Doyoung takes the answer and leans forward. They finally, _finally_ kiss and Taeyong struggles with Doyoung’s dress shirt, eager to get it off and have some skin on skin contact. Doyoung tastes like cherry and chocolate and his lips are a little chapped from all the biting he subjects them to, but kissing him still feels like coming home.

“Hyung,” Taeyong mumbles into the kiss, “please, Doie hyung.”

“What?” Doyoung asks, innocently. “Is there something you need, baby boy?”

“Fuck me,” Taeyong pleads.

Doyoung pretends to think about it. He only pretends because Taeyong can feel his erection press against his hip as the older man kisses him again and grips his waist tight enough to bruise. It’s almost pornographic, Taeyong thinks, the way Doyoung is still completely dressed while Taeyong is naked underneath him.

The plug slides out of his hole with a little help from Doyoung. It’s coloured midnight blue and Taeyong’s worst enemy. Taeyong, after a full day with it inside him, had forgotten what emptiness feels like, and he immediately hates it. His ass clenches around air, his foot kicking out slightly to knock into Doyoung’s ankle, but the older man only watches him in consideration.

“Yonggie,” Doyoung says. His voice is steady, tone clear. “Are you sure you want to? Sure you can take it?”

It’s nice that Doyoung wants to make sure Taeyong is okay to go on, but the only thing that kept Taeyong going the entire day was the knowledge Doyoung was just as excited about tonight as he was. The constant text messages Doyoung sent him about how good he was were what stopped Taeyong from locking himself in a bathroom and jerking off before first period was over.

“Green,” Taeyong says. Doyoung didn’t ask for his colour but Taeyong thinks it’s the best way he has of conveying his message.

Doyoung smiles at him. The next thing Taeyong knows, Doyoung is sliding three fingers into him, his hole still loose from the plug. He didn’t use any more lube, or even so much as saliva to ease the way, but Taeyong gets off on the pain and he only moans, canting his hips up to chase the touch.

He’s fingered mercilessly, with only seconds of reprieve when Doyoung thinks he’s had too much. Doyoung is good at reading him, at knowing when Taeyong needs to breath and when he’s ready to keep going. Doyoung is kneeling over him, his free hand braced against the cushions by Taeyong’s head and his lips are too close to Taeyong’s jaw for him not to be kissing him.

“Doie,” Taeyong halts in the middle of his sentence, his abdomen tightening as the fingers find his spot and abuse it, “Can you please fuck me now?”

Doyoung looks too smug, once more, about the whole situation. He doesn’t say anything, but his fingers slow down and then he’s dragging them out and Taeyong is left gasping for breath. While Doyoung sits up and gets rid of his pants, Taeyong pulls himself up and at last unbuttons Doyoung’s shirt, like he’s been meaning to for the entire night. Doyoung doesn’t even budge to get it off his shoulders, however, and it just hangs off his body. The sight does things to Taeyong’s mind.

They haven’t used a condom in a while, not since they became exclusive, so Doyoung doesn’t have to move from the couch. He only removes his belt, because the last time he fucked Taeyong with the accessory still on, the boy had his thighs bruised for almost two weeks and it hurt to wear anything. Once the belt is out of the way, Doyoung makes to enter Taeyong, but Taeyong stops him.

“What’s wrong?” Doyoung asks immediately. Taeyong thinks he’s sweet when he’s so quick to check on him.

Taeyong shakes his head. There’s nothing wrong, he just doesn’t want Doyoung to fuck him dry. With a little help from Doyoung, Taeyong manages to get on his hands and knees on the couch, flicking his eyes up to gauge Doyoung’s reaction before he lowers his head and takes the tip of his cock in his mouth.

For how controlled and composed Doyoung seems all the time, his will crumbles when Taeyong’s mouth is around him. The professor’s jaw slackens and his posture goes lax, a hand finding its way to Taeyong’s hair to run through the locks and hold on. Taeyong isn’t too interested in getting him off and more inclined towards not being in pain when Doyoung fucks him, so he only sucks at the head for a while before he takes the rest of the shaft into his mouth, the tip bumping his throat momentarily until Taeyong pulls back. Doyoung makes a strangled sound and Taeyong tries to smile, but, well, he has a dick in his mouth. Taeyong does his best effort to cover Doyoung’s cock in as much saliva as possible, being purposefully messy and sloppy.

“I think that’s enough,” Doyoung chokes out, softly yanking the strands of hair in his hand to get away. Taeyong complies, successfully smiling this time at Doyoung’s ruffled appearance – his cheeks are flushed red and he’s breathing hard. “You wanna ride me?” he offers.

Taeyong would normally say yes; he likes to be on top, even if Doyoung is still in charge, because it gives him the perfect angle to kiss Doyoung as the older man fucks into him. But he’s not really feeling in the mood, he just wants to have Doyoung take care of him. A little selfish, maybe, but he thinks he’s earned it.

“No,” Taeyong shakes his head. He’s already lowering himself back down on the couch, and Doyoung goes with him, the brief confusion melting into understanding and a soft fondness that changes his expression entirely.

“You want hyung to fuck you like this?” Doyoung asks. Taeyong nods, already spreading his legs to allow Doyoung space to settle in. Doyoung coos, “My sweet prince. Always so good for hyung.” It’s a new petname, but it isn’t unwelcomed. It makes Taeyong’s tummy knot and uncurl at the same time.

Doyoung doesn’t fuck him tenderly, no matter how saccharine his words may be. Taeyong already knows what to expect, the harsh thrusts that leave him gasping for breath, and the harsh way Doyoung takes him, the grip on his upper thighs so rough it’ll leave marks. He still coos at Taeyong, showers him in praises and leaves enough marks all over his neck and jaw that are sure to cover him for days, hits his spot until Taeyong is reduced to a blubbering mess, unshed tears brimming in his eyes and his chest so tight he feels he might burst.

Their lips meet again in what’s supposed to be a kiss, but it’s only a desperate attempt, too much teeth and tongue, their breaths melding into one. Taeyong has always thought Doyoung kisses with his heart, always pouring everything he’s got into it, and he’s so proud to be able to call Doyoung his.

Taeyong’s orgasm hits him out of nowhere. He’s suddenly coming, nothing but a short whine that’s quickly suffocated by its intensity to warn him, and he feels the warm, sticky cum land on his tummy – what little he can still produce, at least. It _is_ his third orgasm of the night. Doyoung always cums after he does, whether it’s intentional or not, and he collapses on top of Taeyong with a pitched whine and his hips stutter as he rides out both of their orgasms. Taeyong is too exhausted to do much other than pet his back and press kisses to the side of Doyoung’s head, the professor’s face hidden in Taeyong’s shoulder as he gathers himself.

They stay like that for an indefinite amount of time. Doyoung doesn’t move until his breathing evens out and his heartbeat, erratic against Taeyong’s chest, has gone back to its normal pace. When it happens, he sits up enough to look at Taeyong and grins gently – it’s small, but not subdued in its affection.

“Are you okay?” Doyoung asks him. “Was today alright? Did you like it?”

He always asks Taeyong how he’s feeling when he knows the younger boy couldn’t possibly lie to him, either half-asleep or coming down from his high. Taeyong says truthfully, “I’m not eager to do it again soon, but it was fun. I liked having to wait for you. I wouldn’t mind doing it again if we could keep it to the apartment and not do it at Uni.”

“That’s a lot of words for you right now,” Doyoung teases. Taeyong is always a little lost after they have sex and Doyoung has to fish the words out of him. “I’m proud of you,” he says, softer. It’s the tone he uses only with Taeyong, the one he reserves for when it’s just them.

“I love you,” Taeyong says. He’s getting sleepy, but he has to stay awake to have dinner and then finish a project. But then Doyoung is carrying him to the bathtub, setting him down on the porcelain and filling it with warm water, promising he’ll be right back before he leaves to fetch… whatever he is going to fetch, Taeyong is too close to the brink of sleep to know.


	9. it doesn't matter with you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shoutout to the anons that contributed with this 😗

Mark knows he shouldn’t look forward to these as much as he does. He knows he needs to build his self-control. He definitely knows he’s getting too attached, too close for comfort. But can you blame him? Jeno and Jaemin will be the death of him some day, sooner than later.

It’s probably going to be sooner, though, with the way Jeno is clenching down around him, his mouth dangerously close to Mark’s throat and his arms thrown over his shoulders. Jaemin is sat with his back to the bed’s headboard, Jeno’s head on his lap, thin fingers threading through Jeno’s hair as he coos at his boyfriend.

And therein lays the problem.

Jeno and Jaemin are together. They’ve been dating since junior year of high school, everyone’s favourite omega couple, and Mark’s friends whom he helps through their heats because they trust him and don’t want to rely on dumb toys. They’re off limits, a concept Mark’s heart seemingly doesn’t understand.

Jeno’s hole flutters as Mark pulls out and he whines at him to stay, but Mark needs to be strong for both of them. He sits back on his haunches and holds the base of his cock between his fingers, gasping as he tries not to weep at the sight of Jeno’s teary eyes. “You still got another day to go,” Mark pants, “I need to slow down.”

That is not part of Jeno’s dictionary at the moment. Jaemin has to hold him down while Mark regains his breathing, soothing his boyfriend with a hand rubbing up and down chest and the other combing his hair. Mark’s knot is starting to swell and it hurts to be away from Jeno, so the omega doesn’t have to complain for long.

The slide back in is hot and overwhelming. Jeno sobs and thanks Mark in hushed whispers over and over, his ankles locking behind Mark’s back and his arms returning to their previous position. Mark thinks Jaemin should be at least a bit bothered to see Jeno wrapped another boy, but he does the same thing when he’s the one in heat, so it isn’t strange how comfortable he is with the whole deal.

Mark hides his face in the crook of Jeno’s neck and nearly chokes at the overpowering scent of heat that’s flowing out of him, the arousal so thick it covers Jeno’s natural scent of roses and sunlight. Jeno keeps moaning in his ear, senseless words full of pleads and praises, his voice cracking every other thrust. Every muscle in Mark’s body is burning at this point and he’s near dehydration, yet there’s nothing he can do to pull away now. Those minutes to catch his breath were excruciating enough.

A hand falls on Mark’s hair and he purrs. Jaemin pets him, leans down to press his lips to Mark’s ear and says… something. It’s lost in the haze of Mark’s mind, but Jaemin’s voice is deep and comforting and Mark only speeds up, listening for Jeno’s hiccupped moans that will signal him the omega is close.

By the time he finally hears it, Mark is close to bursting. He hasn’t been able to pull out for minutes and he’s grinding down on Jeno, their hips flush together while Jeno moans incoherently. All it takes is for Jeno to whine out something that sounds like Mark’s name for the alpha to come in long spurts inside him, the omega following suit with his nails scratching angry lines down his back. As expected, he’s asleep within seconds, given that it’s his fifth orgasm of the day.

Mark has to stay put, though. His knot is locked inside Jeno and if he moves now, he’ll hurt Jeno and that is the very last thing he would ever want to do, so he simply shifts them both so he can lay on his side and presses the side of his head to a pillow, exhausted. He watches Jaemin drop a kiss to Jeno’s forehead before he’s moving off the bed, the low collar of his shirt revealing too much skin for Mark to handle. He has to look away.

He’s left alone with Jeno for several minutes. Jeno is sleeping soundly, moving minutely, his mouth hanging open a bit and Mark’s heart squeezes – fuck, he’s so in love, it isn’t fair. Then Jaemin returns and he has a glass of water in hand, a straw attached so Mark doesn’t have to move far, a faint smile as he meets eyes with Mark.

“Thank you for helping us again, hyung,” Jaemin tells him. “It really means a lot.”

“No problem.” Mark winces at the gruffness of his own voice and Jaemin laughs quietly, handing him the water. Mark drinks gratefully and feels a bit refreshed, though he still needs several hours of sleep before he can say he’s good as new.

“Take a nap,” Jaemin suggests. He’s already settling down next to Jeno, an arm thrown casually over his torso and his fingers gracing Mark’s arm – it’s enough for Mark’s heart to go haywire. “I’ll be right here.”

Then, as if he hasn’t done enough, Jaemin leans over and kisses Mark. It’s painfully innocent, their lips melding together as they’ve done countless times before, Jaemin’s smile too bright when he pulls away. Mark falls asleep with the image burning behind his eyelids.

~

Jaemin is different to Jeno during his heats. Jeno likes being taken care of, likes to have Mark fuck him missionary style and kiss him while they’re at it. Jaemin is a sap as well; that much is obvious since they’re dating, but he prefers a bit more roughness, doesn’t like to be treated like he’s fragile.

Right now, Mark sits on the bed cross-legged, Jaemin clinging to him as he rides his cock. Jeno is half-asleep since it is four am, Mark himself barely able to keep his eyes open, but Jaemin had woken him up with his face covered in tears and whining that it hurt too much, he couldn’t wait any longer. His heats were significantly more violent than Jeno’s and it wasn’t strange for him to wake up in the middle of the night with hot flashes of pain that brought him to tears. The only thing that seems to help is sitting on Mark’s dick.

Jaemin bounces on Mark’s lap and nips at his jaw with choked moans and high-pitched whines every time Mark has the strength to meet him thrust by thrust. Mark, unable to do much more, holds Jaemin’s waist and squeezes his fingers as often as he can to reassure Jaemin he’s there.

“Hyung,” Jaemin breathes out. Mark’s cock pulses at the sound. “Hyung, please, just give me your knot.”

Mark would give Jaemin the entire galaxy if he asked him like that. He’s saved from saying so by Jaemin’s mouth attacking his own, their teeth clashing and Jaemin’s tongue sneaking into his mouth and licking at his gums. Mark’s hands tighten around Jaemin’s waist and the omega moans louder, his hips going faster as he chases his release.

A sudden heat appears at Mark’s back. Jeno drapes his body over him and then they’re all kissing – Mark never believed a three-way kiss was possible until he got involved with these two -, Jeno sucking on Mark’s tongue while Jaemin sucks on his upper lip. The stimulation, combined with Jaemin riding him like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do and Jeno’s hand sneaking between their bodies to play with Mark’s nipples and he doesn’t even notice his knot swelling until Jaemin has trouble to keep moving.

Jaemin sobs into Mark’s mouth and comes all over his chest with a strange whimper that sounds like Jeno’s and Mark’s names. Mark doesn’t come but he’s close, an unbidden growl gurgling in his throat and he has to remind himself not to leave a mark, they’re not his. They’re not _his._

Jeno helps pull Jaemin off his cock before he’s locked in place, since they need Mark to be able to go on for a little longer. Mark collapses on his back and pants as he stares at the ceiling; Jeno falls on top of him and nuzzles under his chin, sleepy kisses pressed to his skin. Mark is about to wonder where Jaemin went until he feels a mouth on his inner thigh and he groans.

Jaemin doesn’t get him off, simply mouths at Mark’s balls and base and falls asleep more than once, while Jeno circles the head of his cock with his fingers and Mark swears he’s about to have a meltdown.

~

The first time Jeno and Jaemin clear their schedules to help Mark through his rut, he’s so surprised he gapes at them for a full minute. Now, he knows to wait for them, even though he’s been avoiding them for weeks. They show up on time, although their smiles are a bit meek – they noticed Mark running away, then.

There isn’t time to explain, however. Mark’s jeans are too tight and he’s sweating, his eyes already pitch black and he needs to sink his teeth into something quick before he snaps. Thankfully, Jeno is always happy to be his munch toy and Mark only has to tug him inside the apartment and towards the couch, where Jeno lets Mark manhandle him whichever way he wants.

Jeno’s skin is always soft. Mark latches onto the side of his neck and bites marks into it, not stopping until he’s satisfied; they have a good thing going, Mark lets them nest in his room and they let him chew on them.

Mark’s first orgasm comes in the form of Jaemin’s mouth on his cock and Jeno’s lips on his jaw. Jaemin sucks under the head, nuzzles his navel, and offers Mark the prettiest smiles and it’s all too much for him; the night progresses like that, with the two of them threatening to destroy Mark’s sanity. Jeno is the first to take his knot, writhing face first on the couch and his ass propped up while Mark pistons in and out of him, then later it’s Jaemin with a leg on Mark’s shoulder and Jeno doing his best to suck Jaemin’s cock into his mouth.

By midnight, Mark is drained and hypersensitive, Jeno’s hole red and puffy because he insists on taking Mark’s cock even when he’s definitely too tired to keep going, and Jaemin’s throat is hoarse from one too many blowjobs. They’re piled on the bed, Mark trying to doze off as he hears those two giggle to each other – not an easy task with how they’re lying on him.

Then, Mark is suddenly bombarded in kisses and his sleep-deprived brain has a hard time catching up. He splutters, giggles at Jaemin’s obnoxious smooch to his cheek, and waits until they wear themselves out.

“Hyung, go with us on a date,” Jeno pouts at him. Mark thinks he has a heart attack.

“What?” he manages to squeeze out.

Jaemin, though his throat is destroyed, smiles gently at Mark and says, “We really like you, hyung. And we know you like us, too. So go on a date with us, yeah?”

Mark really can’t say no to that, can he?


	10. tension

Mark wouldn’t be able to tell you how he ended up in this situation, but he’s not complaining, either.

Jaemin’s mouth is hot on his, his tongue sweeping Mark’s lower lip and his teeth catching on the tender flesh. Goosebumps raise on his skin as Jaemin’s hands slip beneath his tank top and splay on his abdomen, his blunt nails dragging down and surely leaving red marks on their wake. There’s no way sitting on the bathroom counter is comfortable, yet Jaemin doesn’t say anything about it, only continues to kiss Mark like his life depends on it.

The apartment is quiet. Jaemin’s roommate is gone to China, visiting his parents for a week, and Jaemin invited Mark for a sleepover, just like when they were kids. Except, Mark thinks, back then he didn’t have Jaemin’s tongue shoved down his throat. Mark presses Jaemin further against the mirror and relishes in the breathy moan he gets in response.

“Hyung,” Jaemin gasps. Mark hums softly, kisses along Jaemin’s jaw and tries not to blow his load at simply seeing his best friend’s pupils dilated just for him. He makes sure to leave as many purple bruises on Jaemin’s neck as he can, since he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get the chance to do this again and wants to enjoy it to the fullest.

Jaemin’s long legs dangle off the edge of the counter until he wraps them around Mark’s waist and drags him closer to his body, his hands grasping at his sides as Mark sucks the skin on his collarbones and bites down. It is far too satisfactory to feel Jaemin grow hard against his hipbone, yet Mark can’t help it, his own erection pressed to Jaemin’s thigh.

“Bed,” Jaemin says, cut off by a moan as Mark leaves the nth hickey.

They risk the trip to the bedroom, barely separating from each other. Jaemin’s room is a mess, clothes scattered on the ground, and Mark nearly slips if it weren’t for Jaemin’s vice-like grip on his arms. They land on the bed and their lips are back on each other right away, Jaemin vicious as he bites his lip and sucks on his tongue. There isn’t time to think about the consequences of doing this, there’s only Jaemin’s tongue in his mouth and his hands on his thighs.

“I wanna suck you off,” Jaemin whispers against his lips, soft, breathy, wonderful. “Can I?”

Mark nearly breaks his neck with how hard he nods. It should be embarrassing for him, to be so eager about it, but Jaemin’s lips are red, swollen and spit-slick and Mark can’t wait to see them wrapped around his cock. Just the thought is enough to send a jolt of thunder through his body. Jaemin wiggles down until he’s straddling Mark’s thighs and he makes quick work of Mark’s jeans, pulling them down to his knees along with his briefs. Mark’s cock is more than half-hard where it lies on his thigh, the tip flushed red. The last thing Mark sees is Jaemin lick his lips and then he’s sending him a wicked smile before he ducks down and Mark shuts his eyes in pleasure.

Jaemin has never been shy about his sex life, not with Mark. He’s open about the things he’s done and who he’s done them with – if Mark has to hear about how much of a good fuck Lee Jeno is one more time, he’s jumping off a cliff – and he always smiles amusedly when Mark grimaces and tells him to shut up. So, as Mark feels Jaemin slide down on his cock until the tip bumps the back of his throat, he doesn’t bother to be surprised. It’s not like he can afford to be anything but near ascendance from how good it feels.

Jaemin’s mouth is warm. His tongue laps at the underside of Mark’s dick and Mark has to fist the sheets to keep from thrusting up and accidentally hurting him. Jaemin hums around his shaft and slides just that bit lower, until his nose bumps Mark’s navel, then stays there. It’s only for a few seconds, and then he’s pulling off, coughing a little but still smiling at Mark like he’s having the time of his life. Mark releases the breath he didn’t realise he was holding and with it comes a moan, a belated reaction.

“Jaem,” Mark breathes out. Jaemin’s satisfied smile widens, a bit of precum on the corner of his mouth.

Jaemin repeats the action a few times. He takes Mark in as far as he can, holding him in his throat for seconds before releasing him, his tongue licking at him as he does. By the fifth or sixth time, Mark has black spots dancing in his vision and he doesn’t know what comes over him, but when Jaemin’s nose nuzzles his pubes, gagging slightly, Mark puts a hand on his nape and holds him in place.

He isn’t forceful, doesn’t push Jaemin further down and he certainly doesn’t grip him tight. All he really does is stroke the skin there, using it as means to stay grounded. Jaemin is good at giving head, Mark must admit, especially with how he hums around his shaft and, for heaven’s sake, smiles around his cock like he’s pleased with himself. Mark is dangerously close to the edge faster than usual, but he can’t be blamed, not with the way Jaemin gives kitten licks to the head and takes him back into his throat.

Mark pulls Jaemin off his dick lest he accidentally chokes him, his hips canting up as his orgasm washes over him. Jaemin makes a sound of protest at that but doesn’t complain anymore when Mark tugs him close and kisses him again. Mark can taste himself on Jaemin’s tongue and he groans, his cock spurting some more cum.

They pull apart when it’s absolutely necessary. Mark watches Jaemin blink away the haziness in his eyes and blurts out, “You’re so pretty,” in a sort of reverential tone. Jaemin grins and lets Mark lay him down on the mattress, happy to be pampered as he knows he will be.

Mark doesn’t disappoint. He has always been a fan of babying Jaemin, something sweet coiling in his gut at the blush that settles on his cheeks when he does, but tonight there is a different goal in his mind. He doesn’t want to annoy him, he wants to see how much he can push until Jaemin bends to his mercy.

Mark starts slow, his lips trail kisses down his neck to his sternum, biting and sucking on the skin until it blooms purple. Jaemin’s breathe hitches as Mark’s mouth hovers over his nipple, but Mark bypasses it in favour of nipping at the taut skin of his hipbone. Jaemin’s sweatpants are visibly tented at the front and Jaemin’s chest rises up and down with every heavy breath, but Mark is in the mood for teasing him a bit. He keeps his attention on Jaemin’s lean torso, bites until Jaemin squirms away and awes at the marks he leaves behind.

Jaemin raises his hips when prompted so Mark can slide the sweatpants down his long legs, only partly surprised to see Jaemin isn’t wearing any underwear. His dick is nice, Mark thinks, average-sized and the tip pink, a single vein running along the side from base to the underside of the head.

“Are you clean?” Mark asks.

Jaemin blinks his eyes, so clearly lost, and it takes him several seconds to reply. His voice comes out strained when he says, “What? Yes. I don’t know if you’re asking clean as in from disease or the other kind but yes to both.”

Mark smiles. Jaemin is cute when he’s flustered, even cuter with his cock hard and leaking precum on his thigh. Mark takes a second to appreciate Jaemin’s flushed cheeks and hazy eyes, thinking that he’s lucky to see him like this, until Jaemin whines quietly and kicks his side, just enough to get his attention. “Stop staring at me like that, it’s embarrassing.”

“Sorry,” Mark chuckles. He’s already leaned down and pressed the first kiss to Jaemin’s inner thigh, then another and another.

A shaky exhale from Jaemin later, Mark has the younger boy’s legs thrown over his shoulders and his breath ghosts over Jaemin’s perineum. Mark’s gaze flickers up as his tongue pokes out to lick Jaemin’s hole and a shiver runs down his spine at the full-body shiver Jaemin gives, so visibly affected.

Mark knows he’s good at rimming - or at least Donghyuck has never complained, and he’s the only boy Mark has eaten out – but he still experiments with his technique to see what works best for Jaemin. The boy moans when Mark’s tongue wiggles past the ring of muscles and licks along his walls, one hand flying to grip Mark’s bicep. Mark holds Jaemin down by the hips, thankful that he’s stronger than Jaemin and can easily pin him down, because the sound Jaemin makes once he realises he can’t move goes straight to Mark’s groin. Mark enjoys this, fucking Jaemin with his tongue, especially how Jaemin is at his complete mercy.

Jaemin whimpers when Mark pulls off him and it’s only worsened by Mark spitting in his own hand to jerk him off slowly. “Do you think you can come like this?” Mark asks. It comes off unintentionally dirtier than he meant for it, yet he doesn’t complain. It takes Jaemin a while to answer, a desperate shake of his head as he grounds his heels on the mattress and his hand shoots out to grasp Mark’s wrist. Mark takes advantage of the reaction Jaemin gives and pushes further, “Want hyung to make you come?” as he grips the base of Jaemin’s dick with two fingers.

“Please,” Jaemin keens, wrecked. He’s been hard since they started making out in the bathroom and his shaft is red, his eyes teary.

Mark feels dizzy with power. He looks down at Jaemin, how trusting he is, his eyes so open like he’s pleading with him to let him come, and he is, in a way, even if he doesn’t say it. Mark can feel himself hardening again at the sight and it surprises him – he never thought of himself as the kind to get off to these types of things, but it can’t surprise him much that it’s Jaemin the one bringing out this side of him.

Jaemin whines again. “Hyung, please,” he does beg this time and it’s quite possibly the best thing Mark has heard. Mark can’t say no that, his hand picking up pace again. Jaemin chokes on what more likely would be further pleads, instead chanting Mark’s name like a mantra, among other gibberish.

Before he knows it, Mark has ducked his head and is kissing along Jaemin’s neck. He increases the pressure he has on Jaemin’s cock, slides his thumb over the head to gather the precum there and uses it for lube, makes the glide wetter, easier, and pays closer attention to Jaemin’s every reaction. Just as Jaemin is close, breathy gasps and whines all he can make, Mark goes with his instinct and bites down on Jaemin’s neck.

The reaction is everything he expected, even more. Jaemin comes with a wanton moan of his name, his body taught and his back arching off the bed, nearly throwing Mark off him with the way he trashes, but Mark is still attached to his neck by the teeth. He doesn’t bite so hard it hurts Jaemin – that badly – but it still leaves the prettiest red mark on his skin that Mark has managed so far tonight.

Later, as Jaemin lies on his back, gasping and looking like every one of Mark’s wet dreams, Mark soothes over the bruise with his tongue, lost in the taste of Jaemin’s salty skin. They’ll probably have to talk about this, but they’ll do it some other time. Right now, Mark is set on kissing Jaemin until they fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> up next we have nomin!!


	11. let's fall asleep in paris, wake up in tokyo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i said i'd be back with nomin and here i am with nomin

The hand on his thigh burns him through his pants. Jeno plasters a smile on his face and pretends like he isn’t ten seconds away from combusting. He’s not sure it’s working very well.

He’s the only one sober at the moment, and it isn’t like he’s _that_ sober, either. He’s had three glasses of blueberry vodka and two platters of cheese sticks, but the world isn’t swaying on the spot and he still has all his inhibitions intact. He can’t say the same about his friends, however, who are making absolute fools of themselves, as they do. Jeno thanks his lucky stars they reserved a private booth for the celebration and no one else is there to witness them.

For starters, Renjun’s shirt is soaked at the collar from the beer Mark made him spill as they squabbled over the last sausage stick. Donghyuck is even more affectionate than usual and is halfway sitting on Chenle, cooing about his recently chubbier cheeks as the younger boy does a valiant attempt at shaking him off. Jisung, the only one technically not allowed to drink but that somehow gets away with it, is red in the face and laughing alone at whatever goes through his head.

And Jaemin? Well, he’s the one responsible for Jeno’s uncomfortable situation.

His hand just keeps creeping higher and higher on Jeno’s thigh and it’s too much and not enough at the same time. They’ve had their moments of weakness before, moments when they discard their years of friendship and every warning bell in exchange for a hot kiss and a hotter body pressed to their own, but never in public and never somewhere their friends could see them. It doesn’t help that Jaemin looks as good as he does now, with recently dyed blond hair and an all-black outfit of slacks and a button-up shirt. Jeno doesn’t know what to do with himself at the moment other than grit his teeth and try to concentrate on the meat that’s grilling under his supervision.

Jaemin presses himself closer to Jeno’s side and leans his head on his shoulder, almost like he’s going to fall asleep, but all it does is make every breath of his hit Jeno’s throat and his cologne clog Jeno’s nostrils. Jeno stiffens in his seat, praying to God everyone else is so gone they don’t remember any of this in the morning. And then he just wants to die when Mark decides his free shoulder looks like an optimal pillow and now he has two of the most attractive people he knows so close he feels the body heat emanating off them and this isn’t _fair_. He’s so hard he fears he might not make it out of the restaurant unnoticed.

The night drags on impossibly long. They sing happy birthday and smear cake all over each other, then stumble out of the restaurant in midst of laughter and banter. Jeno drags Jaemin away from Donghyuck and Renjun before they can come up with some ridiculous plan that will keep Jeno from the coldest shower of his life any longer and ignores Jaemin’s whines that it’s his birthday and he’s allowed to celebrate it whichever way he wants to.

“You’re drunk;” Jeno tells him pointedly, “let’s go home.”

The walk back to their apartment complex helps to clear Jeno’s mind, and he thinks he’s safe when they cross the glass doors into the lobby. Then, in the elevator, Jaemin waits long enough for the doors to slide close before he’s crowding into Jeno’s personal space. A gasp works its way up Jeno’s throat and comes out in a moan as Jaemin wastes no time in pushing his shirt up and palming at his torso.

“You ignored me all night,” Jaemin protests against the column of Jeno’s neck. “On my birthday.”

“You were doing that on purpose?” Jeno pushes out.

“Of course I was.” Jaemin licks a stripe of saliva up Jeno’s throat and to his jaw, where he leaves butterfly kisses before he presses his lips to Jeno’s. The kiss is brief, Jaemin pulling away to press the red button on the panel and the elevator stops halfway up to their floor.

There is no way this can be anything other than quick. Jaemin pushes Jeno against the elevator wall and kisses him again, open-mouthed and sloppy and wet, his tongue fucking into Jeno’s mouth in a way that is absolutely filthy. Jeno moans, tugs Jaemin’s hair until he pulls away and then retaliates by ducking and biting Jaemin’s exposed neck.

Jaemin always has the same reaction, but it doesn’t get old. He whines and bucks his hips against Jeno’s, losing his composure at the sensation of Jeno’s teeth grazing his skin, not so hard it breaks the surface but just enough to leave a sizable bruise. Jaemin never covers up those marks and finds delight in the confusion of his friends. This time, Jeno thinks it will be too obvious who did it, but he finds he doesn’t care.

“God, you were driving me crazy back there,” Jeno groans against Jaemin’s sweaty neck, his lips still attached to him as he leaves mark after mark on the pale skin. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

Of course, he knows, Jaemin prides himself in the effect he has on Jeno. “No, but I would love to hear more about it.”

Jeno doesn’t dignify that with an answer. He’s too preoccupied working his knee between Jaemin’s thigh, taking advantage of Jaemin’s distraction to switch their positions and have Jaemin against the elevator mirror. Jaemin’s back hits the mirror and immediately Jeno is rubbing his knee against the bulge on Jaemin’s pants, relishing in the moan that stumbles out of his lips. Jaemin steadies himself, his hands gripping Jeno’s shoulders, and grinds down to chase some friction. Jeno keeps Jaemin in place with a hand on his lower back and the other goes for his thigh, hitching it over his waist for better access.

If it weren’t for Jaemin’s hand wandering lower, Jeno would have forgotten all about his own boner. Too busy with having Jaemin melt under his touch, Jeno disregarded his own erection until Jaemin cupped him over his pants and squeezed, drawing a groan out of him. Their stance changes; they switch minutely so their crotches are pressed together and then it’s just a matter of friction, their pants and underwear an unnecessary evil at the moment. Jeno rather wants to take them off, but he doesn’t dare move away.

They kiss, in the meantime. Jaemin kisses with too much teeth and tongue, and Jeno doesn’t have the coordination to keep his mouth closed when he’s doing other things, and it’s the messiest kiss they’ve shared. Jaemin trails a hand up to Jeno’s chest and brushes his nails against Jeno’s nipples with the most shit-eating grin on his face, his hips unrelenting.

It isn’t a surprise for either of them when they come. They’re drunk, horny and in an enclosed space Jeno thinks has working security cameras, they always knew it wouldn’t last. Jaemin comes first with a stuttered gasp and his lips faltering on Jeno’s neck, his hips bucking before they still. Jeno isn’t too far behind, coming with a moan of Jaemin’s name and grinning at Jaemin’s oversensitive twitching of his fingers.

“I really hope those cameras aren’t working.” It’s the first thing Jaemin says, after minutes of breathing each other’s air. Jeno is already starting to feel uncomfortable and sticky and wants nothing more than to take a shower and collapse in his bed, and maybe cuddle with Jaemin a little. “Also, happy birthday to me.”

Jeno doesn’t need to look at him to know he has an insufferable smile on his face. “Yeah, yeah. Happy birthday, Jaem.”


	12. all hands on deck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello~ i fulfilled two separate cc requests in one chapter: the first was for a canon compliant noremin where jaemin has a hyung kink, the second was for norenhyuck to fuck jaemin. here we are.

Jaemin’s skin is on fire.

He hisses and shies away from Donghyuck’s fingers, oversensitive and feeling like he might snap, but all it does is pull him flush to Jeno’s chest, the boy’s cock sliding further in him. They’re sitting still, Renjun somewhere off to the right, while Donghyuck tries to wriggle a finger alongside Jeno’s shaft.

“You okay?” Jeno asks him quietly. They’re so close his mouth is right next to Jaemin’s ear. “Do you want us to stop?”

Donghyuck halts his movements and Renjun can be heard sitting up. They’re waiting for his decision. Jaemin’s head is dizzy and his fingers are tingling, but eventually he sighs and shakes his head, relaxing in Jeno’s grip. “I’m okay.”

The smile Donghyuck sends him shouldn’t be as blinding as it is, considering the circumstances. Jaemin closes his eyes and leans his head back into Jeno’s shoulder, listening for the squelch of the lube bottle before there’s a finger poking at his rim again. There’s some rustle of sheets and then Renjun is back at his side, lithe hands fluttering over his chest and neck before there are lips pressed to his and Renjun’s distinct cologne is all up on him.

If you asked Jaemin how he got himself into this situation, he’d be quick to point his finger at the three demons with him. It isn’t like he asked for them to hold so much power over him, or for them to know every single one of his weak spots. One of which is –

“Hyung,” Renjun murmurs into the kiss. Jaemin’s cock gives a spurt of precum and he can hear Donghyuck smother a laugh, the little bastard. “You’re pretty.”

“So pretty,” Donghyuck echoes.

“The prettiest.” Jeno kisses Jaemin’s shoulder.

Jaemin is fully prepared to shoot something back, something along the lines of them being prettier, because they _are_ , but then Donghyuck adds a second finger and all thought evaporates from his mind. Renjun resumes his kiss, clearly set on distracting him from the pain in his lower backside, and one of Jeno’s hands goes to stroke Jaemin’s dick in tandem to Donghyuck’s fingers.

It burns, but it doesn’t feel as bad as Jaemin thought it would. It definitely helps to have Renjun and Jeno attached to either side of his neck, leaving mark after mark on his skin as they take full advantage of their lack of schedules in the foreseeable future. Donghyuck, on his end, bites at the soft skin of Jaemin’s inner thighs and gives a shit-eating grin every time Jaemin whimpers since his body is particularly sensitive there.

Before he knows it, Donghyuck is adding a third finger, an extra precaution. Jaemin whines at the stretch, his fingers scramble for purchase on anything he can reach and his toes curl, his eyelashes fluttering closed. Heat pools at the bottom of his tummy and Jaemin hates, hates how much he’s enjoying this, the burn of the stretch and the knowledge that what comes next will hurt even more.

Renjun’s bites down on his collarbone and Jaemin sucks in a breath through his teeth. His head starts to swim from the expectation and the heat that’s settled all over his body. Finally, after what feels like forever, Donghyuck pulls his fingers out slowly. Jaemin releases a sigh he didn’t know he was holding and his limbs fall lax, but at least Jeno is there to hold him together.

Donghyuck leaves the bed in search for a condom – they always do this, they always forget to bring the box to bed and then someone has to get up and Jaemin hates the loss of warmth, feels oddly exposed even if Renjun and Jeno are still right there with him, blanketing him from behind and from his right. Jeno continues to jerk him off, although slower now, his touch barely there at all.

Jeno shifts minutely, just enough to sit a little righter, and the movement causes his cock to press impossibly deeper. Jaemin moans, swivels his hips down in search for friction and Jeno’s hands shoot out to hold him in place.

Renjun’s face stretches into a grin and he cups Jaemin’s cheek tenderly. “Hyung,” he coos, “will you suck me off while Hyuck and Jeno fuck you? Can you do that?”

Now, that’s just a stupid question. Renjun knows Jaemin would never decline such an offer and he thinks the stink eye he sends Renjun’s way is to be expected. Still, Renjun laughs, almost mockingly, and says, “That’s no way of answering, now is it? Don’t you want to be a good hyung?”

Behind him, Jeno huffs out a laugh and his hand draws circles on the edge of Jaemin’s waist. Donghyuck returns, condom in place, and he doesn’t bat an eye at Renjun’s teasing smirk nor Jaemin’s embarrassment.

“You still haven’t answered me,” Renjun reminds him with a tap of his fingers against his cheek. It’s perhaps that little move that has Jaemin reacting the way he does, how condescending it is, and Jaemin nods and whines at the same time, spreading his legs to allow Donghyuck to settle between them.

“Yes,” Jaemin whispers, “hyung will do it, Injun; I’ll even let you fuck my mouth, please.”

Renjun smiles, pleased. Donghyuck takes one of Jaemin’s legs in each hand and lifts them, throws them over his shoulder so that his cock lines up with Jaemin’s hole. He waits for Jaemin to give him the green light, as do Jeno and Renjun, and it’s as if time stops.

Jaemin gives himself the time to take a breath. The three pairs of hands on him are grounding, as are the sweet words peppered into his skin from all sides. No matter how much it might hurt, he feels safe, loved, and he isn’t as scared as he was earlier in the evening when the idea was proposed. Donghyuck’s hands are gentle on his thighs, Renjun’s fingers are locked with his for support and Jeno’s lips are soothing against his skin.

“I’m okay. I’m ready,” Jaemin nearly pleads.

Donghyuck pushes in as slowly and as carefully as he can, but it still hurts. Tears immediately spring to Jaemin’s eyes and he gasps, the breath stuck in his throat. Renjun brushes a few damp strands of hair away from his face and coos again, telling him how good he’s being, what a good hyung he is and how happy he makes them.

Jaemin thinks he might have passed out, because the next thing he knows, Donghyuck’s hips are flush with his and he feels so full, stretched to the max. Jaemin moans, louder than he has so far in the night, and moves experimentally. It burns, but it feels good. Jaemin hates that he likes it. Jeno can’t move, or maybe he won’t because he’s too afraid he’ll hurt him, so Donghyuck takes it upon himself to thrust in and out, his cock rubbing against Jeno’s own and Jaemin’s walls. His shaft gets caught on Jaemin’s rim, nearly pulls out before he slides back in, and Jaemin positively wails.

“Injunnie,” Jaemin gasps. His mouth is dry from hanging open and his lips feel chapped. “Come here.”

Renjun doesn’t need to be told twice. He straddles Jaemin’s chest and pulls his dick out of his briefs, shuffling closer to Jaemin’s mouth until the tip of his tongue meets the head of Renjun’s cock and the older boy hisses. Renjun tries to be gentle at first, but patience isn’t a virtue of his and he knows Jaemin doesn’t want that, anyway, so he takes hold of Jaemin’s nape and holds him in place even as his hips push further.

It’s overwhelming, to say the least. Jaemin is trapped, held down by the three of them; Jeno’s arms are wound through his, rendering his hands useless, Donghyuck has him folded almost in half and the little space that’s left is taken up by Renjun’s thin body, the boy sat on his chest and nearly chocking him with his cock.

“Our sweet Nana,” Jeno croons. He’s closely followed by Renjun tucking a strand of hair behind Jaemin’s ear, telling him, “Such a good hyung, you’re doing so well,” while fucking his mouth.

Donghyuck thrusts harsher with every second, Jeno plays with Jaemin’s nipples, then Donghyuck reaches down to jerk him off and Jaemin comes with a wailed moan that’s cut off with Renjun’s cock in his throat. Jeno isn’t far behind, coming with a groan and a bite on Jaemin’s shoulder, and eventually the pressure is too much for Donghyuck and he comes as well.

They are in synch, so of course Renjun comes within seconds of Donghyuck moaning out an amalgamation of all their names. Renjun shoots his load down Jaemin’s throat with a, “Fuck, Nana,” and Jaemin doesn’t think twice before swallowing.

Jaemin definitely passes out after that. He comes to his senses with a damp cloth running over his body and Donghyuck smothering his face in little kisses. When they notice he’s awake, Renjun asks him, “Think you can handle a bath, or would you rather shower in the morning?”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to move for a week,” Jaemin groans, only partly joking. The lower half of his body is sore and he refuses to move more than strictly necessary. Renjun only hums in response, wipes at the excess of lube on his cheeks and thighs and then makes room for Jeno. The blond has a bottle of aloe Vera, the fucking angel that he is, and he’s sweet as he wipes the gel all over Jaemin’s hole. “I fucking love you, Lee Jeno.”

Donghyuck is wrapped around him, his kisses slowing down as sleep takes over him, but he still manages a, “Don’t we all?” before he knocks out. Renjun returns with a handful of sleeping shirts and manoeuvres one onto Donghyuck’s sleeping body, and then helps Jaemin sit up momentarily to get dressed.

“I fucking love you, Huang Renjun,” Jaemin says. Then, he looks down at Donghyuck’s peaceful features and adds, “I fucking love you, Lee Donghyuck.”

“We love you too, hyung,” Renjun says, tongue in cheek. Jaemin flips him off and allows sleep to take him over, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lemme know what you thought!!


	13. bad habits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm aware we've had -3 jaeyang moments but this came on my cc and i couldn't not write it

Jaemin sits atop Yangyang’s tummy, positioned perfectly so that Yangyang can’t even move his hips, the boy’s cock resting hard on the hollow of Jaemin’s back. Yangyang whines, a hand darting forward to attempt to jerk off, but Jaemin is faster than he is and he pins his wrists to the couch with one hand. “Stay,” he orders. Yangyang whimpers again and pouts in an attempt to sway him, although it doesn’t work.

Yangyang knows that Jaemin takes his gaming very seriously. It’s his income, after all, since he works as a beta tester for a videogames company based near their university. And Yangyang also knows that Jaemin doesn’t take to being teased very well, no matter how much he enjoys to tease others. And yet, Yangyang seemingly forgot all about that in the face of an opportunity such as being a little shit to him for a few minutes.

He’s starting to question if it was worth it.

“Keep still,” Jaemin says. His weight disappears and Yangyang watches him out of the corner of his eye until he disappears into their shared bedroom. Yangyang hopes he’s back soon, already feeling a bit silly all naked on their couch. Thankfully, Jaemin returns almost immediately, a silk tie in hand. Yangyang recognises it as the one they went halfsies on, years ago. “Put your hands together. Yeah, like that.”

Yangyang does as he’s told. Jaemin doesn’t waste any time tying his wrists together; the knot is tight enough Yangyang won’t be undoing it anytime soon, but not so tight as to cut off his blood flow. It’s one of those small quirks of Jaemin, how good he is with bondage, that remind Yangyang he’s desperately inexperienced next to him.

“Is that good?” Jaemin still asks. Yangyang takes a second to tug experimentally before he nods. Jaemin nods back, a simple grin playing at his lips, and then he moves off his body again. Yangyang isn’t so good at smothering a distressed sound this time and Jaemin laughs quietly, ruffling the top of his hair. “Don’t worry, I’m just gonna look for the lube. I’m not leaving.”

It should be more embarrassing for Yangyang. Jaemin can always read him like an open book – and vice versa, they haven’t known each other so long for nothing – but it still shouldn’t be so easy for him to tell that Yangyang is scared Jaemin will leave him like this. It happened, once; they were only starting to get into the whole BDSM business and Jaemin suggested they tried it. It ended up with Jaemin returning home to a sobbing Yangyang, and he’d undone the bonds only to find himself with a lap full of his best friend, the Chinese boy inconsolable. Yangyang was desperate to get the butt plug out of his hole, and he’d chucked it to the other side of the room. They agreed they wouldn’t try anything like that again, but only after an hour of Jaemin rubbing circles on his back and reassuring him repeatedly that he wouldn’t leave like that anymore.

Yangyang snaps out of his thoughts when a cold finger pokes his rim. He startles, a yelp escaping his lips, and Jaemin giggles to himself. “It’s just me. Or were you expecting someone else?”

He could say yes. Yangyang likes bugging Jaemin, after all, and he knows how possessive the boy can be when they’re sleeping together – he typically doesn’t care if Yangyang dates anyone, though – but then he thinks about his bound hands. And how the next step in Jaemin’s punishments is always to gag him.

“No,” he shakes his head. Jaemin’s smile turns secretive and he hums.

The first finger goes in smoothly. Yangyang makes a sound of mild discomfort, more at the pressure than it actually hurting, but settles down quickly. Jaemin waits for Yangyang’s legs to lose their tension before he starts to pump his finger, in and out. He’s more focused on prepping him than actually providing pleasure and it fucks Yangyang up.

Another finger is added and Jaemin ups the speed of his hand, his free one petting Yangyang’s thigh. The Chinese boy’s dick is hard, turning purple, but Jaemin heeds no mind. Yangyang tries reaching down with his bound hands, but they’re slapped away by Jaemin, saying, “Didn’t I say to stay still?”

“But, Jaem,” Yangyang whines, pouts at him. His puppy eyes typically work to sway Jaemin to his favour, but not today.

“No. You can come from my cock, but no touching yourself. Is that understood?” Jaemin raises his eyebrows. Yangyang nods pitifully and doesn’t try any funny business anymore.

The fingers disappear soon after and Jaemin rolls a condom on – Yangyang knew that keeping a box stuffed under the couch cushions would work in their favour. Yangyang closes his eyes, leans his head back against the cushion and focuses on his breathing, waiting for Jaemin to fuck him for once and for all.

“Yangie,” Jaemin calls his name, saccharine sweet, “look at me.” He waits until Yangyang does, says, “Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” Yangyang nods.

Jaemin doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s been hard since Yangyang started messing with him, almost two hours ago, pressing hickeys to the back of his neck while Jaemin tried to beat a boss battle in the latest videogame, rubbing him through his pants and just generally being a tease.

He knows what Yangyang wants, wants to be fucked hard and rough, realistically the only way he’ll come untouched, but Jaemin doesn’t feel up to that. Instead, he rocks into him slowly, his thrusts dragged out, his hips flush against Yangyang’s before he nearly pulls out. Yangyang’s hole is hot and wet and Jaemin knows he never lasts long while fucking him, another reason for him to go slow.

It doesn’t take much for Yangyang to grow desperate. It’s all too much, the weight of Jaemin’s cock in his ass, the boy’s hot breath on his neck as he sucks bite marks into his skin, his own neglected dick hanging heavy between his spread legs. As Jaemin sits up, Yangyang peers at him through clumped eyelashes, unshed tears in his eyes, and starts to beg.

He isn’t shy about begging. Yangyang knows Jaemin likes it when he does it, knows that it gets his rockets off faster than almost anything else, and he’s hoping it’ll make Jaemin let him cum.

“Jaem, Nana, please, I’m sorry I was a pain. Please touch me, I can’t cum like this, it hurts so bad, Nana. Please,” he tops off, pouting. Jaemin looks about three seconds away from complying and release is practically on the tip of Yangyang’s tongue, but then he changes his mind.

“Nope,” Jaemin pops the p, his thrusts as agonizing as the ones before. “You’re right, you were being a pain. I always let you off so easily, that’s probably why you’re getting so bratty.” He stops talking for a minute, leans down to kiss Yangyang – filthy, more tongue and teeth than a kiss – then continues, his tone so patronizing and disappointed it makes something in Yangyang ache. “I need to teach you a lesson, don’t I? How else are you going to learn?”

What feels like an eternity passes and Jaemin still doesn’t relent. Yangyang doesn’t know how he’s holding up for so long, how he hasn’t lost his patience yet, but he does know he’s about to lose his mind. It doesn’t help that Jaemin kisses him more than half the time, distracting him from the throbbing between his legs with his tongue.

However, Yangyang is weak, and it isn’t long before he’s pleading again. “Jaemin, please, it hurts so badly. I’m sorry, I promise I’ll be good, I’ll be so good, you’ll never have to punish me again.”

“Oh, really?” Jaemin laughs. His thrusts do pick up, just so, just enough for Yangyang to feel the difference but not enough for him to come just from that. “You’ll be a good boy for me?”

“The best,” Yangyang nods. At this point, he’ll agree to anything. “Fuck, Nana, please.”

His voice breaks at the end. Jaemin finally, finally lets him have what he wants and strokes his cock with one hand, while the other stays on his thigh. Yangyang chokes on a sob, unable to stop the tears that spill from his eyes or the moans that tumble out of his mouth. Soon, he’s coming with a cry of Jaemin’s name and a litany of curses. Jaemin comes not too long after, probably from the heat and the tightening of his ass.

They lie on the couch, panting into each other’s skins, for a while. Yangyang is loopy, a bit disoriented, and sleepy. Jaemin drags himself off the couch, dumps the condom on the trash bin at the corner of the living room and returns right away, undoing the tie and rubbing at the reddened skin. Uncaring of how sweaty they are or of the cum pooling on both of their stomachs, Yangyang climbs into Jaemin’s arms. He’s a big fan of aftercare, but even more so, he enjoys pampering Jaemin afterwards.

“I’m sorry I bothered you while you were working,” Yangyang murmurs. He really is sorry.

Jaemin smiles; Yangyang can feel it against his shoulder. “I know. It’s okay, I was getting bored anyway. Thank you for distracting me.”

“You’re an ass,” Yangyang pinches him. Jaemin only laughs in glee.


	14. body work

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi i'm back momentarily

By all accounts, Jungwoo isn’t small. He’s actually rather tall and broad-shouldered, and it isn’t easy for him to go unnoticed, unless he tries really hard. Jungwoo should have his fill of long limbs and lumbering shadows, don’t you think? Jungwoo certainly thinks so.

He doesn’t have his fill. If you were to take a look at the boys he’s dated, from his first date to today, taken into account the one night stands and hook ups at bars, you’ll find that everyone is over 180 cm tall, some even taller than he is.

There was Yukhei, first. Jungwoo dated him for a year and a half in high school, believed with all his heart they would be together forever – he was foolish, yes, but he was also head over heels in love. Yukhei moved back to Hong Kong after graduation and Jungwoo never saw him again. The first handful of months, Jungwoo felt the phantom touch of Yukhei’s large hand on his thigh while they sat next to each other in class or on the bus or anywhere, really. Long distance was too painful and they agreed they wouldn’t try it.

In college, Jungwoo met Jaehyun. Jaehyun was charming, sweet and romantic with him and his smile made breathing easier. Jungwoo lost his virginity to him – something he regretted not doing with Yukhei for the longest time, and he still feels a stab of pain knowing there was something else they missed out on – and for weeks after Jungwoo couldn’t shake the dopey smile from his face. He and Jaehyun couldn’t keep their hands off each other, either, and Jungwoo felt like his thighs were always bruised from the grip of his fingers.

After they broke up, Jungwoo didn’t do relationships for a long time. Jungwoo constantly felt a Yukhei shaped hole in his heart, now Jaehyun had joined him for the ride, and he didn’t think he could bear to have his heart broken again. Jungwoo slept around – he wouldn’t call himself a slut, but to each their own – and added more long legs to his black list: there was Adachi Yuto, the soccer player that lived down the hall from his dorm room; Jung Wooseok, the sweet boy in his Anatomy class; Kim Mingyu from Social Studies, the boy with sharp canines and hiccupped giggles. There were a few more, people from bars and parties he never had to see again. He didn’t worry about those, didn’t particularly worry about the ones he saw daily, either. Jungwoo didn’t see anything wrong with a little fun among friends and he never treated any of them differently afterwards. Thankfully, they didn’t either.

All boys were different, all had their own hobbies and personalities and social circles (okay, so maybe Yuto and Wooseok are friends, but Jungwoo didn’t know that at the time,) and yet their one thing in common? Height. They could all easily sit on Jungwoo and crush him. Jungwoo loved it.

 

 

Jungwoo met Johnny Seo in his Social Leadership class. It was the first day of class and Jungwoo knew a few people here and there. He sat near the back of the classroom with Mark, chewing on the soft end of his coloured pen and worrying over the assignment he has for Pharmacology. Most of the seats were full and the stream of students coming in had diminished considerably, so Jungwoo supposed the class would be starting soon.

The door bangs open one last time and everything around Jungwoo disappears, eclipsed by the hulking piece of ass that walked inside. He was easily taller and bigger than Jungwoo, brushing the 185 mark and his shoulders were so broad Jungwoo’s mind conjured up the filthiest images all on its own. The mysterious man is handsome, too, and his smile lights up his face.

It isn’t until he’s five feet away that Jungwoo realises _oh shit he’s coming over here._

“Mark!”

Of course. Mark would know him; it isn’t as if he doesn’t already know every single soul on campus. Jungwoo sometimes regrets befriending him in early March, except for moments like these.

Mark makes a strange sound that Jungwoo can guess is a greeting, and then they’re partaking in typical frat boy behaviour. It would be a turn off if Jaehyun and Yukhei didn’t have similar attitudes sometimes and Jungwoo wasn’t used to it. Jungwoo is okay with watching them interact, until Mark grabs his shoulder and says, “Johnny, bro, meet Jungwoo. Hyung, this is Johnny, he was my big when I joined the frat.”

Johnny’s eyes turn to him and his smile, if possible, broadens. He sticks his hand out for a handshake and Jungwoo’s mouth parches at the sight of his black hoodie stretching over his chest and shoulders at the movement. “Pleased to meet you, Jungwoo.”

Jungwoo hopes he returns the pleasantries in an accepting manner. His mind is running away from him and he needs to collect his thoughts before he starts to _blush._

 

 

Surprisingly enough, Jungwoo sees Johnny again real soon. That afternoon, in fact.

The library was packed full of students and the cafeterias were all busy, too, so Jungwoo made a last ditch effort and made his way to the Arts hangout. The lounge, while also crawling with students, didn’t have so many people in it and Jungwoo managed to find a place next to a harried-looking girl with blue streaks in her hair and a couple engrossed in a book of some sorts. Jungwoo can see the words renaissance on the glossy pages but his artistic inclinations go as far as singing and the occasional dancing.

Jungwoo splays out his Chemistry textbook and heaves a deep sigh, resigned to spend the next two hours trying to understand chemical components he doesn’t care about before he has to go to Physiology and pretend to care about the function of every goddamn thing in the human body. Jungwoo has no idea what he was thinking when he decided to go for med school but he certainly deserves a good ass kicking for it.

He must lose track of time because the next time he looks up, the girl is gone, the couple has moved on to what looks like a textbook on the French revolution – and Johnny is sitting at the table as well, sipping on coffee and looking at him with a smile.

A violent blush travels up to his cheeks and Jungwoo nearly chokes on his own spit. His eyes are swimming with oxygen and calcium and sodium and whatnot and he doesn’t quite believe he’s real. Jungwoo needs to blink several times just for his eyes to adjust and then they water. He mustn’t have been blinking.

“Johnny?” Even his voice is embarrassing him today, croaky and disused. “I didn’t see you there.”

Johnny’s smile, if anything, grows. “I saw you in here and thought you needed a little break. You looked like you were ready to burn that textbook so I bought you a little something.”

One of the coffee cups slides to him across the table. His name is on the outside, written on loopy cursive and with a smile at the end. Jungwoo can’t help it when he blushes again. He takes it gratefully and hums at the taste of moccachino latte. “How did you know I liked this?”

“I asked Mark.” He says it so nonchalantly, as if it’s such an obvious answer.

They talk until Jungwoo has to go to his next class, and then Johnny catches up to him afterwards and they talk longer. The biggest part of Jungwoo’s brain, and the one he would like to focus on, is reeling at the closeness, the warm touches of Johnny’s hand on his arm or the brush of their shoulders. He knows Johnny is hitting on him and he loves it. He doesn’t want to be anywhere else but here.

The smaller part, perhaps not so important but loud enough to make itself known, is eyeing Johnny like a meal served on a silver platter. Every time Johnny laughs, he feels it in his own chest; every time Johnny’s fingers linger on him, Jungwoo thinks he’s on fire.

Jungwoo knows they both know where the night is going. He’s still surprised when Johnny kisses him as if his life depends on it.

 

 

They go back to Johnny’s apartment. Johnny mentioned to him that he’s a grad student and has been living on his own for a while, ever since he decided dorms sucked ass and he preferred to pay for his own rent someplace else. It’s perfect, because it means Jungwoo doesn’t have to watch his mouth or keep quiet. He’s never liked either of those things.

Johnny pushes him against his front door and ravishes his mouth with intent. Jungwoo moans into the kiss, both arms wrapped around Johnny’s shoulders for leverage and standing on his tippy toes because _Johnny is tall, dear God._

Their clothes disappear before Jungwoo can blink. Soon, he’s in nothing but his boxers, Johnny alike, and the mattress is soft under Jungwoo’s fingertips, the sheets made of cotton. Johnny leaves a trail of hot kisses along his jaw and down his neck, one hand wrapping around Jungwoo’s thigh to lift his leg while the other sneaks into his underwear.

Jungwoo makes a keening sound and arches his back, chasing the friction of Johnny’s fingers along his shaft. The slide could be better if they had lube, but Jungwoo likes pain enough that he doesn’t mind. He thinks he would die if Johnny tried to move away.

“You look pretty,” Johnny says into his shoulder. “When I saw you this morning, I knew I had to have you.”

“Lucky you, I thought the same,” Jungwoo laughs. Johnny huffs a laugh against his skin and resumes his self-appointed duty of covering him up in reds and blues.

Jungwoo relaxes into the touch as best as he can. His body is thrumming with the need to touch Johnny, to feel more skin on skin. He doesn’t care if they fuck or not, he’d be happy to cuddle naked.

Johnny removes their boxers and throws them on the floor, rendering them naked. It feels like a dream when Johnny drapes his body over Jungwoo’s to kiss him and covers him completely, like a blanket. Their cocks brush together, ripping moans out of them, and that’s when Jungwoo finally looks down.

He could be seeing things through rose tinted goggles, but he thinks Johnny’s cock is perfect. It could be his imagination or his horniness, but it looks big, long and thick, and Jungwoo decides he wants it in his mouth. Or in his ass. He’s okay with either of those.

“Can I suck you off?” he asks Johnny. He doesn’t expect rejection, he never is, but he likes to see his partners’ eyes dilate at the question.

Johnny doesn’t disappoint in his reaction. His nostrils flare and his pupils grow twice their size before he’s nodding his head in consent and Jungwoo can flip their position.

Johnny’s dick feels as nice as Jungwoo thought it would. If possible, it hardens further in his mouth, with Jungwoo’s tongue licking circles around the slit and sucking on the head. One of Johnny’s hands, big and warm and comforting, falls on Jungwoo’s head and presses, not much, just enough for Jungwoo to moan around his shaft. Johnny’s hips kick from the vibration and Jungwoo chokes momentarily.

“Sorry,” Johnny pants. His fingers card soothingly along Jungwoo’s hair.

Jungwoo moves back to offer him a smile. “It’s fine, I like it.”

If anyone were to accuse Jungwoo of saying that just to see the reaction, he wouldn’t be able to deny it.

“Fuck, Woo,” Johnny groans, “you can’t just say things like that. Come up here.”

Jungwoo pulls off for good and goes willingly. Johnny kisses him, deeper than before, and Jungwoo moans at Johnny’s tongue ticking his gums. They kiss for so long, Jungwoo nearly forgets his erection, until a brush against Johnny’s thigh brings him back to reality.

“I want you to fuck me,” Jungwoo doesn’t beg, but that was damn close to. “Please?”

Johnny nods his head as fast as he can. Jungwoo settles back on the bed, legs spread to accommodate Johnny, and watches him hunt for a condom and lube with half-slit eyes and his hand lazily stroking his own dick.

Johnny preps him carefully. His fingers are longer and thicker than Jungwoo’s and they reach places Jungwoo can’t, and soon he’s resumed Jungwoo to a whimpering mess with only three fingers pumping in and out of him. Jungwoo absolutely cannot wait for the next part.

Jungwoo cants his hips upward when Johnny’s fingers brush his prostate and moans, louder than he has all night. “Oh, my God, Johnny, please, just fuck me already.”

The three fingers slide out for good, the condom goes on and soon Johnny is grabbing Jungwoo’s thighs, lifting his legs up in the air. Jungwoo grabs hold of them and keeps them there while Johnny guides his cock into his hole.

It feels like the air is punched out of his lungs. Johnny groans as he feeds him his cock, inch after inch until their hips are flushed together and Jungwoo thinks he’ll be split apart. It’s been so long since he had a good fuck and Johnny is already shaping out to be memorable.

It only gets better when Johnny leans over to kiss him and suddenly all Jungwoo can see is Johnny’s raven hair, the broad line of his shoulders and the shift of his muscles as he works in and out of his ass. Jungwoo whines, grabs Johnny’s shoulders and pulls him down, eager to feel as tiny as he can.

He loves it when Johnny kisses him, but loves it even more when he nuzzles his cheek with his nose and his hair tickles his skin, because it’s like everything else disappears and it’s only _Johnny Johnny Johnny._

“Johnny,” Jungwoo moans. He doesn’t even know what he has to say, it feels like he’s forgotten everything but that name. He’s overwhelmed, his senses are on override with Johnny and he wonders if he’ll end up crying. Jaehyun didn’t mind it, kinda liked it, in fact, but that doesn’t mean Johnny will.

“God, you feel so good, baby,” Johnny groans into his ear. “I wish I could fuck you like this for days.”

“You’re welcome to try,” Jungwoo jokes. Or is he joking? At this point, he wouldn’t mind having Johnny fuck him for days, until he’s carved the shape of him into his body and vice versa.

Johnny makes to move back but doesn’t go too far. Jungwoo doesn’t allow it, wrapping arms and legs around him and whimpering, “No, stay there.”

It should be more embarrassing, yes, but Johnny moans and stays right where he is, presses closer, even. “I’m not going anywhere.”

It becomes too much too fast and Jungwoo wraps a hand around his dick to jerk off in tandem to Johnny’s thrust, panting Johnny’s name until he comes with a moan and full-body shiver. Johnny fucks him through it, apologizing with a kiss to his shoulder when Jungwoo tries to squirm away from the oversensitivity, then he’s coming into the condom with a moan.

They lay there for an eternity. Jungwoo is seeing stars and Johnny isn’t moving off him, puffs of breath hitting the side of Jungwoo’s neck. Jungwoo pets his back lazily and thinks about the fact he only met him today. Maybe this does make him a slut, just a little.

Who cares? Jungwoo had fun.

“I meant to take you out first,” Johnny says softly. “I meant to ask you out but then I had to kiss you and things escalated.”

“Ask me now, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> up next: johnyu! hopefully

**Author's Note:**

> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/doitsushine92) where you can leave any requests or questions or simply yell at me
> 
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> 
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